Consequences
by Bambieyes1234
Summary: Always-a-girl!Dean. As Deanna Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Long AU season 6. Castiel/Deanna, past Lisa/Deanna.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture. A tragic lack of Cas in the first few chapters.  
**Summary: **Always-a-girl!Dean. As Deanna Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. AU series 6. Shockingly long fic. Lisa/Deanna, Castiel/Deanna.

**Am I ever going to be able to stop re-writing this dreadfully rough start? Probably not.**

* * *

The Winchester family had an unbearably long history of screw ups, mistakes, and soul destroying tragedy-sometimes literally. Life had never been kind to those unfortunate bastards bearing the name Winchester.

Deanna Winchester honestly wondered why she'd dared hope things would change just because she and her (deceased) brother managed to shove Lucifer with more than a little help from an (ex-lover) Angel of the Lord. Christ, her life was weird.

And the two pink lines seemed to be mocking her, which didn't help. Deanna pressed her forehead into her fist, pregnancy test dangling from her other hand. Castiel. Fuck. She was going to have to tell him. And Lisa. And Ben. She wanted to keep it. The baby. Her baby. Cas' baby. Sam's niece, and her father's grandchild. Deanna was too family-minded for that not to matter.

The amount of guys she's screwed over the years, and she gets knocked up by the one Deanna actually gave a damn about. That was just shitty luck.

She was nervous, which was fucking crazy, because since when does Deanna Winchester get nervous about anything? She got freaked out, and sometimes terrified, but never fucking nervous.

"Come on, Dee. Just 'cause we haven't got balls, doesn't mean we can be a pussy about this," Deanna sneered to herself, fishing her phone out of her jean pocket.

She scrolled down in a hurry, and pressed dial before she could think about it. It went through to voice mail. She left a brief message, and shoved her phone back into her pocket.

Almost instantly, Deanna considered calling again, taking the cowards way out by telling him that, oh, those jokes about the condom splitting from enhanced angel-strength? Yeah, not so funny now, huh?

Someone knocked on the bathroom door before Deanna could grab something and break it in outrage.

"Deanna?" Lisa's concerned voice called softly, causing an unpleasant wrench in Deanna's gut.

Guilt was a regular emotion in her relationship with Lisa; mostly because a month after the flaming shit ball that was her break up with Cas, she'd hooked up with an ex per her baby brother's request. She tried not to feel too angry about that, because Cas had left for a reason, to go back home, not because he'd gotten bored of her or whatever. But, it fucking hurt, worse than Cassie. Nothing compared to losing Sam, but even Hell couldn't compare to that.

But, still. Cas left. So she went to Lisa. And now she was pregnant.

"Hey, Lise? Could you, uh, come in here for a sec?"

Lisa opened the door without hesitation, slipping in. Her concerned expression froze when she caught sight of the pregnancy test in Deanna's hands.

"There was this dude before you..." Deanna said, trailing her explanation off in favour of a wince. She felt like the biggest douche-bag in the planet, worse than fucking Zachariah. She deserved to be shot, with her own gun. Dragged out of Lisa's house, and shot.

Lisa looked at the other pregnancy tests, all five of them, and closed her eyes slowly.

"I should go."

"No," Lisa's eyes flew open. Deanna was startled. She knew Lisa cared about her enough to welcome her with open arms, take her moods in a stride, and tolerate her weapons (some habits die really, really hard) as long as Ben couldn't find them, but the firmness in her voice could rival Cas' whenever she mocked God.

She should really stop comparing Lisa to her ex, but it was probably better then that one time she mentally compared her to Sam, and ended up throwing up. Or that could have been morning sickness. Morning sickness.

If Cas didn't kill her, she might have to kill him.

"No," Lisa repeated. She kneeled, and placed her hands on Deanna's knees."I want you to stay. We can raise this baby together," Lisa paused, and, God, she really didn't deserve this woman."If you want to keep it."

Deanna felt like someone had just dropped a fucking house on top of her. Abortion. Holy shit. She had to be the dumbest person alive. Why hadn't she thought of that? It hadn't even occurred to her as an option. Would it even work on the bab-whatever she was carrying?

Hell, did she even want rid of it? Deanna had never really thought about having children. Snotty nosed brats, stretch marks, and vulnerability. It would have been a miracle not to lose the baby within minutes if she was still a hunter, and honestly, she was surprised she hadn't already. This was actually the perfect time to have a child.

If she wanted too.

Her life was so boring that she wanted to scream sometimes. She hadn't seen a demon in months. This was the first time in her life that she can honestly remember not having bruised knuckles- at the very least. Lisa had raised a baby before. She would know what to do, if she was serious about doing this together. Her mom had been able to let the hunting world go, and raise a family.

Deanna imagined it briefly; a baby, a daughter or a son, a mix of her and Cas. She hoped the kid would have Ca- Jimmy Novak's blue eyes. Between them both, the kid would be beating them off with a stick!

"I want to keep it," Deanna said with an unintentionally hard edge in her voice.

* * *

Deanna sat on the hood of her car, her legs crossed, eyes up to the stars. Lisa was asleep in the house, and so was Ben. She liked to sit out here sometimes, protected by a ring of salt, and heavily armed. It was quiet, and dark. She let her hunter's senses run wild, listening obsessively for noises. It kept her mind at ease.

There was the smallest sound of feet planting in the grass, and Deanna rolled smoothly off of the hood, whipping out her gun, and fired.

"Ow!" a slightly nasally voiced whined. It was familiar enough to stall her next shot. "That almost hurt, Dee-Dee!" Suddenly, he was standing in front of her, looking down."You shouldn't be laying in the dirt like that. Not in your condition." He grinned down at her, offering a hand.

"You know. Wonderful." Deanna glared up at him, and shot him in the crotch before he could vanish her gun. He barely winced, but it made her feel better."I'd say Gabriel, but he's dead."

"Reflexes haven't dulled," he noted with a theatrical grunt, and unflinching grin."And, really, Dee? Not even family can keep a good Archangel down." Despite his cocky words, a shadow passed over his eyes.

Deanna eyed him carefully. She tensed, before slowly relaxing. For now, she'd believe he was who he said he was. "You guys really are the masters of evasiveness, aren't you?" Deanna pointedly adjusted her gun, keeping it aimed on his crotch. "What the hell do you want?"

Gabriel beamed, opening his arms, and his eyes moved down, resting on Deanna's flat stomach."I'm going to be the cool uncle, of course! I can't do that without fetching my darling little n-"

"Don't," Deanna said."I don't want to know yet." She paused, curious. "You can tell?"

Gabriel shrugged, and smirked down at her stomach, kneeling. "Yes. I can feel...it right now." He placed a hand to her stomach, and received a boot to the face.

Deanna clutched her leg with one hand, and hopped backwards, cursing.

"What was that for?" She turned to the sound of his voice, aiming the gun again. He almost looked disappointed."You know that's not gonna hurt me, Dee-Dee."

"I don't want you anywhere near my kid," Deanna spat.

Surprise splashed across his face, follower by anger. Gabriel's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward. "What?"

"I don't trust you," Deanna said bluntly. "You could be Gabriel, or you could be someone else, and until I've had the baby, you aren't coming anywhere near us."

"Motherly protective instincts," he sneered. The anger drained from his vessel's face. "And after the kid's born?"

"If I think you are who you say you are, you can play the doting uncle."

Gabriel eyed her for a moment. " Alright." Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. "Have you told little brother?"

Deanna shook her head, soothed by his agreement, slowly lowering the gun to point at the ground."I called."

"He won't be able-" his earnest response cut off, and he stared upwards briefly.

"Won't be able?" she demanded.

"Don't be too hard on him, huh?" Gabriel winked at her."A girl like you could eat my brother alive," he paused, and looked at her stomach again, grinning. "Hell, you probably already have." He lifted his hand in a wave."I'll see ya in nine months, princess."

"Princess," she repeated in disbelief. Deanna stood outside a few moments longer, and turned his words over. Gabriel was (probably) still alive. She shouldn't be so hard on Cas, and their baby would have an uncle. A crazy, archangel uncle.

"Poor kid," Deanna shook her head,"You never stood a chance."

Some of the fear building up under her skin had been eased. Cas was alive, at least. Deanna turned, and began walking back to the house, tucking the gun back into her waistband. The back door opened before she could pull out her keys; it was Ben, holding one of her sawn off shotgun, pointing it at her.

He lowered it as soon as he saw her, looking sheepish.

"Where the hell did you find my shotgun?" Deanna asked, and pulled it out of his hands, checking it over quickly. Ben stepped back, and she stepped into the house, locking the door behind her.

She had considered teaching Ben how to fire a gun once, but decided to make the house a fortress against any supernatural threats before teaching a temperamental kid how to use a gun. It was a haunting waiting to happen. It was one of the many times she'd longed for Bobby in the weeks since she'd left his house.

She'd been pregnant then, unknowingly. The knowledge rattled her slightly.

"It wasn't exactly subtle," Ben murmured, crossing his arms over his chest, and giving her a bitchface Sammy would have been proud of. It made her chest ache, but Deanna was getting good at ignoring that.

Deanna touched his hair briefly, and pushed him towards the kitchen."Couldn't sleep?" Deanna asked when they were sitting down.

Ben shrugged, looking away."What's it like having a younger..."

Deanna had flinched, halting Ben's question. He stared at her strangely. She looked away this time, and screwed her eyes shut.

"Why were you out there?"

Deanna threw herself on the change of subject, and looked back at him."I missed my baby." She paused at his expression."My _car_."

Ben grinned."You do have a really nice car."

Deanna grinned back in delight. "You know maybe I'll teach you how to fix her someday..."

Somehow Ben's grin managed to widen. "Really?"

"Sure. Why not?"

* * *

The next seven months passed by slowly. She had vague memories of Sam as a baby. She'd practically raised him when they were younger, so she wasn't too worried about that. But Lisa helped with everything; baby clothes, doubts, mood swings, cravings, random aches that disappeared way too quickly to be entirely normal. The sex was different. Deanna woke up, wishing to see another pair of blue eyes a little less.

She called Cas often, sometimes I love you slipped out, and she hated herself for it only slightly more than she did for continuing to call him when he never picked up, or called back. But she kept him updated by voice mail, even when she was sick with rage, or dizzy with concern. It felt like the right thing to do.

It figured; the first time she told him...that was over the phone in an embarrassingly emotional fit.

Sometimes she talked about Sam, sometimes she talked about her and Lisa, getting a small shock of something like shame whenever she mentioned the other woman, and Ben. She found herself telling his voice mail more than she told Lisa, and, in true Winchester fashion, Deanna refused to think about. She took a fuzzy picture of the scan, and texted it to him. She told him when the baby kicked.

It reminded her of trying to pin her dad down, constant voice mails, and fucking disappointment.

Deanna kept Gabriel's visit to herself. She thought about it a lot, whenever the horrifying thought that maybe Cas was dead entered her mind. He couldn't contact her. It wasn't that he didn't want to.

Ben had always wanted a sibling. He was so excited that Deanna didn't have the heart to warn him about the heartbreaking perils of being an older sibling, of loving someone so much that your entire being screamed with it, of mourning them before they were even dead, of throwing everything up in the air to make them happy when they aren't around. The projecting was obvious enough that even she saw it. Things would be different for Ben and her kid.

Ben was happy, and had discovered an unfortunate talent in photography, snapping photos of everything. Lisa said she was happy, but there was a strange edge to her smile as Deanna grew bigger. Deanna mourned her hotness, and abused the treadmill.

Somehow things...worked.

* * *

Childbirth was a breeze compared to hell. Deanna would have laughed her way through it, but she didn't relish the questions it would provoke. And that was why, she gave birth at Lisa's. Hellish visions of a literally blinding light shining out of her vagina kept her up at night.

If she was going to give birth to a Nephilim (and it felt like she was pushing a fucking giant out), she didn't want people nearby. The baby wouldn't be safe in a hospital. Fuck. She almost wished she hadn't told Gabriel to take a hike, it could have gotten her a few extra hours asleep. Or less.

As more pain erupted like lava over her lower half, Deanna re-thought the word breeze. It felt like someone was wrenching her cunt open with a car jack, while someone else went to town on her lower back.

"Fuck!" Her head jerked back so fast, she narrowly avoided a concussion on the wooden floors. Her face screwed up, and she pushed on instinct.

She was never going to have sex with Lisa again. This must be one of the things that no couple ever survived, and they weren't all that strong in the first place; her fault. Things would be so much better if Deanna was capable of connecting with a normal person.

"Motherfucker..." Deanna growled, gritting her teeth. Another wave of pain swallowed her whole, leaving her gasping, panting through it."Son of a bitch..."she said, as she pulled a face."Maybe literally."

She was so glad Ben was at school. Sex Ed was bad enough, but watching something come out of her vagina would probably put him off woman for life.

"Almost there," Lisa soothed, her gloved grip bruising on Deanna's legs, peering...up. Her voice trembled lightly with panic.

She sent an 'accidental' kick out at Lisa with a cry of pain, sending her staggering back into the sofa. It wouldn't bruise, just keep Lisa from going blind if the baby took after daddy. There were several towels, and a bed sheet at the end of her birth canal, softening the...landing.

A long scream ripped itself from Deanna's throat, interrupting her cursing pants, and she pushed on instinct. Shit! Shouldn't she guide something somewhere? She couldn't remember. There was sweat and goo, and...

Something...came out, slowly and slickly, turning. Her womb contracted repeatedly before stopping, and Deanna started swearing again. She needed a shower. She needed a fucking beer! Screw the slippery slope Sam had often mentioned when he was still...She needed a rewind, or something. She needed Sam and Cas and Bobby and her dad. Her mom would have been nice, too, but even in her wildest dreams, Deanna couldn't imagine that.

And then it cried: a wet sounding sob. The baby cried, and something inside of Deanna jumped up. Her body tried to follow suit, only to be stopped by a wave of shuddering pain from her second favourite body part, followed by a light tugging.

"Shh," Lisa hissed in pain, rubbing her jaw violently. With the other hand, she hurried to jot down the date and time. She lurched to the floor mere seconds later, checking on the baby. There was a small, relieved sound moments later.

"Sorry," Deanna rasped. "Okay?" In her rush to save Lisa's eyes, had she hurt the baby? She might just have to kill herself if she had.

Lisa smiled tightly at her from between her knees. "I got a doctor with Ben. I bet I didn't have your kick through. And we're both fine."

Deanna cringed. Lisa patted her bare knee. The warm summer breeze swept through the open window. Deanna's eyes flickered down, trying to see her baby. Would the baby be cold?

The baby let out a soft, unhappy whine when Lisa scooped it up.

She smiled down at the baby, wrapping it up in a clean towel. "A girl," she murmured. Deanna's heart gave a violent spasm in her chest, and her eyes burned...in pain. A girl. A daughter. Huh. "She's beautiful."

Lisa carefully passed her to Deanna, cord attached. The baby gave a gentle cry, cooing nonsense. Deanna cradled her delicately, and looked. She had gotten her wish. Her baby had Castiel's electric blue eyes. Her head was damp and bloody, so she wasn't sure what colour her hair would be.

Deanna hurt with how much she loved her; nothing could prepare her for this. Her baby was beautiful, and lovely, and oh, God. She was crying, actually fucking crying. She was more of a baby then the newborn, but fuck. She loved her down to her tiny, tiny toenails. Deanna kissed her lightly, barely daring to touch her with her rough, killers' hands.

How could such a thing be part of her? With everything, she had done; in hell, and on Earth. Cas. Their baby was like Cas. Too perfect, too wonderful, too beautiful for Earth. An angel. Her daughter was a freakin' angel. Literally.

Deanna stared at her daughter's sleepy face, listening on edge for every tiny sound she made. Her sweat soaked hair hanging over her face, unable to hide lovesick green eyes. Lisa's hand brushed her face gently, and she still couldn't look away. She was probably beginning to look like Cas with all of the deranged staring, but she didn't give a damn.

"What are you going to call her?" Lisa asked softly, placing another towel over the baby's body, wrapping a blanket around Deanna.

Deanna didn't hesitate. There was no other name for her. "Mary."

"After your mother?" Lisa probed carefully. She stood up, and closed the window, sitting back beside her, pulling another blanket around them.

"After Mom," she agreed. Mary's gooey cheek left a trail of slime against her shoulder, marking the loose shirt she wore.

Lisa's fingers tangled lightly in her hair, looking down at the baby. Some part of her wanted to hide Mary away from Lisa's eyes, but Deanna stilled the impulse.

"Mary...Ellen Winchester." If it was good enough for the Harry Potter books Sammy loved so much, it was good enough for her. Hadn't the main character named his kids after the dead?

Mary squirmed in her arms, a soft sound escaping her mouth, her head lolling back into Deanna's shoulder; left shoulder, his handprint. Deanna kissed her daughter briefly, resting her cheek against her forehead.

"I think she's hungry," Lisa said when Mary let out another soft sound.

"Oh." Deanna said, looking at her daughter uncertainly. "How do I-"

Lisa gave her a quick run through on what to do, helping her out of her t-shirt. It was probably one of the most awkward conversations Deanna's ever had, including Bobby and her dad trying to explain why there was blood coming from her 'special' place, and giving Sammy the talk; about demons, and sex - when he caught her with one of her classmates.

Soon, Lisa disappeared to phone the hospital. Mary suckled hungrily, and she grimaced at the new feeling. Deanna grabbed her mobile to distract herself, flipping tiredly through the numbers, and dialed the far too familiar number.

"A girl. Mary Ellen Winchester. She's fucking beautiful... and really hungry. She gets that from me, but she has...your eyes. I don't know where the hell you are, or if you're even still 'alive'." Deanna hesitated."Goddamnit. You should be here," her voice came out unwillingly soft towards the end, and she hung up before she can say more.

Deanna can admit she cared about him a helluva lot, she can also admit she was pissed as hell with him for it all. Never calling back, leaving her after being so...

In the never-gonna-happen-future, Cas had been so desperate for her, thorough that drugged haze. She kinda thought he always would be, and maybe she's not as okay with that as she thought. She respected duty. She respected him for going back to pick up the pieces, understood even. Heaven is his Sammy, and she can deal with that, but not with him completely cutting her out.

The phone was already back on the table when Lisa re-entered the room, and sat down beside her.

"They're sending someone. They should be here soon. Are you cold?" Lisa relaxed when Deanna shook her head. She was wrapped in a cocoon of covers with her girl. A bone deep tiredness weighed on her, but she hadn't felt so good since way before hell.

"A girl," Deanna said quietly, and grinned.

Lisa smiled faintly."Ben will be happy."

"Are you?"

"Yes," Lisa said, and it almost looked genuine. She leaned over, and kissed her, slow and searching. Mary whined unhappily, forcing her to break the kiss to hush her gently.

"Do you know any songs?" Deanna asked.

Her dad had been too busy to sing, and Sammy had preferred stories with happy endings. But it isn't entirely about that. Deanna may love Cas and Sammy too much to be completely sane, but she cared about Lisa too, to a weaker extent but there would be time to expand on that.

She wanted to see her smile, and smile she did.

"Rock-a-by baby..."

* * *

"Deanna," someone poked her spine."Deanna," someone poked her ribs."Deanna," her arm.

"Chinese burn..." she slurred sleepily.

The poking stopped."What?"

"Gonna give you a Chinese burn," she said, and rolled over, grimacing in discomfort at the burn between her legs. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she blinked a handful of times, clearing the unwelcome fuzz away.

Ben stared at her, a crayon in one hand, using her thigh as a makeshift table. She was numb enough not to feel it. His camera was beside him.

Deanna mustered up a warning glare.

Ben looked completely unintimidated.

Deanna wasn't surprised. She probably looked like death nobody bothered to warm over. She rolled her eyes at him, and nodded at the picture.

"What're you doing, small child?"

Ben looked annoyed."You sound like a pirate."

"Pirates sound nothing like that."

Ben opened his mouth to argue, and then stopped, staring at her."Really?"

Deanna nodded sluggishly."Me an' Sammy fought a pirate ghost, was killing sea men. Semen." She laughed slightly, because, drugs or not, Winchester's don't giggle like girls, even if they are one. "I wonder if Mary's gonna be anything like he was...as a baby..."

She shifted, kicking off the blankets, stretching slightly. The small of her back arching off the bed, legs straight, with muscles tensing and relaxing. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Ben watching her legs.

"Seriously?" Deanna blurted. Ben's eyes flickered back to her, sheepishly. "I'm your mom's girlfriend. And you're 10."

Ben shrugged wordlessly."Didn't you ever check out your dad's girlfriends?"

"Umm, no." She squinted at him."He didn't have any- publicly. He knocked up this nurse." She paused. "Even Iwouldn't have looked when she'd just popped out a kid."

That was a lie. She would have. Legs were always sexy, even if they were attached to a pregnant woman. Formerly pregnant. Whatever.

Ben grinned, as if reading her mind, and Deanna pushed down an uncomfortable pressure in her throat. Fucking Cas. Son of a bitch. She was easier to set off then a car alarm.

Deanna glanced around the room."Where's Mary, anyway?"

"In with the rest of the...spawn." Ben said, and laughed to himself.

Deanna narrowed her eyes at that, recognizing the look. Lucas Thompson had worn the exact same look when she had punched his annoying cousin's front teeth out on his sixth birthday. "What's so funny?"

"You were pretty out of it when they tried to take Mary," Ben laughed loudly at the memory."You punched a doctor out. He was, like, five times your size. "

Deanna shifted, grimacing uncomfortably. Her knuckles were bruised. The first time in four months. She'd started showing pretty late, around the fifth month, and people thought a girl working at a music store was a slut. Usually, they'd be right, but there was a baby on board that train, damnit.

And she was in a relationship, of course.

"I drew a picture of it," Ben added, and pushed it towards her. "Watching you beat up people when you're pregnant never stops being funny."

Her life was shockingly demon-free, but not of random asses that needed to be taken down a peg.

Deanna took a look, and grinned loosely."I look like the Hulk."

Ben returned her grin."More like Buffy."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not that blonde." Deanna paused."Or short."

"You're almost six feet," Ben agreed, and hesitated.

"Something on your mind, mini me?" Deanna gave him a curious look.

"Should I call you Mom now?" he asked finally, watching her with quietly curious eyes.

Deanna's heart jumped, and her mouth shut down. Sarcastic comments rose to her lips when she faced demons and angels, when she stared at Michael through her father's eyes, when Sammy begged her to kill him, and Cas kissed her goodbye, but as Ben looked at her, and waited; nothing came.

"Only..." Wariness stilled her tongue, as she sank deep into the shark infested waters dubbed 'normality'. It was unbelievably screwed up that she'd rather face another pissed off archangel than answer the kid's question'."Only if you want to."

Ben nodded.

Deanna cleared her throat, uncomfortably. "Do you know if I can move, or what?"

"No," he stood up. "I'll find...someone."

"Hey, Ben." She called before he could leave. He stopped, and turned back to face her, looking curious."Where's your mom?"

He smirked."Apologizing to the doctor."

Deanna's lips twitched.

Ben returned a few moments later with a young, chubby nurse.

"Your son said you wanted to move," she said somewhat awkwardly.

A quick glance at Ben convinced her not to correct the nurse. Deanna pushed herself up with her arms. "Yeah."

"Well," the nurse hesitated. Deanna flashed her a smile; wide, slightly pleading, and charming. The girl blushed hotly."I suppose-I could bring your daughter here, Miss Winchester?"

Deanna shook her head."I'd rather go to her," she feigned hesitation."If that's okay?"

Deanna wanted to see her daughter, she'd fucking crawl there if she had to. If she could move, it was going to happen.

"I suppose..." The nurse moved across the room, and nervously checked the IV attached to her hand."I'm sorry. I don't think you can move with this-what are you doing?"

"Pulling my IV out," Deanna said absently, wincing as she did so. She looked at the shocked nurse."This thing have a back? I'm not going to flash people when I get up?"

Ben snickered, and pulled a bag off of the floor, digging through it, and pulling out a pair of Deanna's sweat pants.

"Thanks, buddy."

"Miss Winchester-"The nurse tired. Her eyes were wide, and her face was slack with shock.

"Call me Deanna," she said, and slipped out of bed. There was a sore throb between her legs. Ben helped her stay steady as she pulled the sweat pants on.

Deanna looked down at herself, and pulled a face. "Gross. I'm wearing a dress."

"It's a hospital gown." Ben said. "And pants."

"Still a dress." She rubbed her legs, snagging a tissue to dab at the back of her bloody hand. She tossed it into the trashcan across the room.

"Score," Ben murmured. Deanna leaned on him slightly, her hand pressed against his shoulder. He gripped her elbow, and they started walking.

"But-" The nurse stuttered as they left.

Ben was still snickering when they reached the right ward. They passed by the gawking fathers who hadn't quite worked up the nerve to go in yet, and stepped into the room. A black nurse tried to stop them.

"You should be resting," she said. She was tall and pretty with great skin. The charming smile slid to Deanna's lips a little easier then with the other nurse. She could see Ben taking stock of the other woman.

"Listen," she peered down at the woman's breast, "Amelia. I pushed one of these kids out of me like four hours ago, and I've barely been able to lay eyes on my daughter since."

Amelia looked concerned."Surely you're tired?" Shouldn't you be drugged went unsaid.

Deanna shrugged."I staggered all of this way to see her," she gave her a wide-eyed, innocently hopeful look. "Please?"

"Well," Ameila said, looking torn until Ben joined in on the puppy eyes."Okay, but only for a little while."

Deanna couldn't help but grin, nodding eagerly. Something in Amelia's face softened.

"Promise me you'll go back to your room after?"

"Pinkie swear."

Amelia smiled slightly."What's your daughter's name?"

Deanna kept smiling, and reminded herself that this woman was a nurse, and a name couldn't hurt her kid. "Mary Winchester."

"Oh," Ameila said, something sparked in her eyes. "She's yours?"

Deanna raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Yeah. She's mine. Why?"

Amelia lead the two of them through the tiny baby cots, and besotted fathers. Deanna wondered if Jimmy had ever stared down at his daughter, Claire, like that. She was willing to bet her other baby he had.

"I shouldn't be saying this," she murmured quietly to them, "but she has the loveliest eyes."

The woman glanced into Deanna's green eyes, and held her gaze, biting her lip slightly. Deanna's eyes moved down to the woman's lips. They looked soft. Her eyelids lowered slightly, and the corners of her lips quirked upwards, a familiar flirtation pressing down upon her. The woman looked shyly away. Cas never had, but Deanna wasn't sure if that was out of boldness or social awkwardness.

Cas. Shit, Lisa.

Abruptly, Deanna looked away, her eyes meeting Mary's. She relaxed completely, tense muscles unwinding, a loving veil sliding over her hard green eyes. If Deanna didn't know it was impossible, she would have sworn the kid smiled up at her.

Ben's grip on her arm tightened as he peered down at his new sibling, a look of wonder on his face. Mary gazed back at them both, blue eyes sparkling in a way that almost looked curious.

"She does, doesn't she," Deanna agreed, her voice coming out slightly wispy. She bent over, pushing her loose curls behind her ear, a grin tugging at her lips.

Ben tugged at her sleeve."How the hell did you push her out of you?"

"Well. It wasn't easy, sweetheart."

"Is she your first child?" Amelia asked, somewhat puzzled. She was hovering uncertainly. Deanna's eyes flashed to the other woman briefly.

"Yeah. She is."

"You and your..." her gaze flickered down to Deanna's hands, settling on her bare ring finger.

"Girlfriend," Deanna filled the gap in, and straightened up."I don't know about Lisa, but I'm very pleased."

Amelia nodded, looking somewhat disappointed. "Of course." Her gaze fluttered to Mary briefly, and Deanna resisted the urge to step in front of the newborn.

She was on edge, and very protective. The ache between her legs didn't help matters. Nobody wanted to be around a protective Deanna Winchester, let alone one in pain. There was a reason Walt and his buddy shot her seconds after Sammy almost two years ago.

"I'll give you a few minutes," Amelia murmured, and began to walk away.

"Wait," Deanna said."Can I hold her?" she asked, gesturing to Mary.

Amelia turned back, shaking her head to herself. She looked slightly distracted."Yes. Sorry. Of course-quickly." She hurried back, and passed Mary to her.

Deanna sucked in a slow breath as panic beat against her ribs. She carefully positioned Mary in her arms, fucking terrified of dropping her. Her daughter cooed up at her, big eyes and gummy mouth. She was lighter then Deanna would have thought, considering how much shit she ended up craving while pregnant. Her hair was light and fine, blonde like hers had been as a kid. And Sammy's.

Ben balanced on his tiptoes, clutching Deanna's shirt in order to peer at the baby. Deanna crouched slightly to give him a better view.

All was quiet for a long moment, and then Ben said exactly what danced around the back of Deanna's mind. "Strange hat."

Deanna laughed slightly, giddily. It'd been years since she'd felt so good...back when her family had been, well, a family.

"She needs to go back in now," Amelia said, snorting slightly. Deanna ducked down, and gently laid Mary back into the cot, brushing her lips against the very top of the baby's head as lightly as she could.

Deanna forced herself to step back.

"She's okay?" Deanna found herself asking.

Amelia smiled at her. "A perfectly healthy baby girl." There was some amazement in the woman's expression."I heard you gave birth at home. That must have hurt."

"How did you know that?" Deanna's smile became slightly fixed.

Amelia's smile was warm."You punched one of the most hated doctors. The nurses talk."

Ben smirked up at her.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "Am I ever gonna live that down?"

"No," Ben answered happily.

* * *

Deanna had barely sat down on the bed when Lisa walked in, the other woman's eyes met hers, and she smiled. Ben looked up from his drawing, and grinned at his mom.

"How're you doing?" she asked, crossing the room to kiss Deanna's forehead, and then Ben's.

"I'm great," Deanna grinned, her hands curling around Lisa's slender hips."Ready to go?"

Lisa gave her a look of surprise, and dawning amusement."Are you? It's been a few years since I gave birth-" across the room, Ben made a sound of disgust, causing Lisa to give him an affectionate look, "-but I was barely able to move with drugs."

"I have an incredibly high tolerance for pain," Deanna flashed her more teeth."I wanna go home."

Something in Lisa's face softened."You've never called it home before," she stroked Deanna's arm soothingly.

She shrugged wordlessly.

Lisa stroked her arm one last time, before she nodded. "I can get a nurse."

"Thanks, Lisa." Deanna watched her leave, before turning to Ben."What are you doing now?"

"Drawing Mary," he said, a small frown of concentration on his face. "Don't all newborns have blue eyes?" He lifted his head long enough to give her a puzzled look."Why are hers so different?"

Deanna shrugged, but her reply was cut off as another nurse entering the room with Lisa. She was kind of relieved; she hated lying to the kid. She could hardly tell him she screwed an angel without traumatising somebody in the room.

"Your partner told me you want to leave," there was a look of disapproval on the woman's face. She'd probably heard about what happened from that girl. Deanna couldn't bring herself to give a damn.

"That's right."

The nurse checked her chart briefly.

"You should be fine," the old crone said curtly.

"And my kid? I can take her too?"

"After fours hours, we can't keep you in," the woman said, glancing between Deanna and Lisa, her nose wrinkling in disdain."More's the pity..."

Deanna's spine straightened, and her eyes flashed angrily."Listen, lady-"

"Deanna," Lisa said, somewhat pleadingly.

The nurse left the room with a stern glare.

"What a bitch," Deanna grumbled. Ben huffed out a laugh.

"Deanna, please don't swear in front of him. And Ben, stop encouraging her."

Lisa was a lovely, kindhearted woman, but she had this horrible trait of treating Deanna like a fucking kid when she was less than pleased.

Deanna literally bit her tongue, and calmed the stormy cloud building in her gut. A slow burn anger was so much harder to deal with then the quick, wild flashes that always came with a demon hunt.

"Let's just go home," Lisa sighed.

Deanna dressed in a hurry, becoming used to the strange aches her body gave out whenever she moved. Some of her remaining anger dulled when she saw that Lisa was holding Mary. Lisa readily handed the squirming child over, murmuring something about bonding. Deanna flashed the homophobic nurse the bird when they passed her.

Ben spent the ride home snickering to himself, and clutching his camera and drawings. Lisa was oblivious. Mary dropped off in Deanna's arms fairly quickly. Sometimes she would catch flashes of a smile drifting over her own face.

The house was a welcome change to the hospital. It was late enough that Ben was shuffled off to bed immediately. Lisa wasn't far behind him, stopping to hover in the doorway when Deanna went for the couch.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" Lisa looked startled. "You must be tired."

Actually, Deanna felt like she'd just downed several cups of coffee. Her body felt mutilated, but she didn't. The sudden rush had swept over her almost the instant she'd stepped inside. It felt like a minor adrenaline rush.

"Not yet. I'll probably crash in a minute." She pulled a blanket over the two of them."I'll watch TV for a little while."

She wanted a shower, but she wasn't leaving Mary yet. She stroked the top of her daughter's head, feeling the soft wisps of hair beneath her fingertips. She switched on the TV. Deanna was half way through an old episode of Doctor Sexy. MD when her senses tingled.

She glanced down at her daughter, and breathed in slowly. She never went far without a weapon of some kind, but the whole giving birth thing had kinda took the matter out of her hands. She was trigger happy enough on a regular day.

Still, she had managed to slip a scalpel in her bra. Before she could shamelessly use her baby's appetite as a distraction to grab it, she realized something.

"Come to play the fairy godmother?"

The air shimmered, and Gabriel appeared with a flourish and a grin.

"What? No headshot?" He looked at her carefully."I must say being pregnant suits ya, Dee-Dee. Makes the girls-" he made a cupping motion around his chest,-"pop wonderfully."

"Sniffing around your baby brother's ex?" She shook her head mockingly. "That's pretty cold."

"You've done it."

Deanna shrugged."What can I say? I'm a horrible person." Her mock friendly expression chilled."She's sleeping."

The trickster shrugged, and sat by her legs."I don't mind." There was a hidden hardness in his boyish expression.

She could tell him she had no intention of keeping him away from her daughter, as if she actually could, but where was the fun in that?

"You ever held a baby before?" she asked curtly.

"Once or twice, princess. You wouldn't believe how desperate people are for an angels blessing." There was a naughty undertone in his voice, that brought a grin to match his to her face. Never been all that fond of him, but he had a sense of humor; a sick, twisted sense of humor, but one nonetheless.

Deanna shuffled forward, and he met her half way. His thigh was brushing her hip. She reluctantly transferred Mary to his arms, a strand of her wavy dark blonde hair hanging above her daughter's sleep face.

Mary stirred as Deanna leaned back to give them somespace. She hovered pointedly at the edge of his vision. A smirk curled at the archangel's borrowed lips as he gazed down at the baby. He hummed thoughtfully, shifting Mary in his arms with a care that startled Deanna slightly.

He wouldn't have gotten within five feet of the kid if she'd thought he didn't give a crap about her, but she just didn't expect him to be so...careful about it. Like handling glass. Like how she held the kid.

"How was pregnancy?"

"The pregnancy went...smoothly. Completely demon free. It's like this town's got the cooties." She glanced at him.

Gabriel grinned, raising his eyes to look at her."You didn't think I'd leave my niece completely unprotected now, did you?"

Deanna knew he wasn't just gonna go away after this. He'd want to be in the kid's life. It was what she'd want. Keeping in mind exactly how and why he'd died, Deanna decided to give civil a try.

"Thanks," Deanna forced out.

He looked startled."Whoa, Dee-Dee. That was almost polite. I thought that was Sammy's-" in a flash of fury, Deanna ripped the scalpel out of her bra, and stabbed him in the knee.

"Ow! Ow!" Gabriel yelped, grimacing as he shifted Mary into his other arm. He pulled the scalpel out of his knee. It was barely bleeding, but he was pouting like he was bleeding to death. "I'm gonna let this one slid, but, God, Deanna, try not to make this a habit." He looked at her for a moment. "Too soon?"

"Always too soon," Deanna muttered darkly. Screw civil.

Gabriel handed Mary over, and stood up with a wince.

"I haven't been able to get hold of Cas," Deanna said before he could leave.

Gabriel paused."Have you tried praying?"

Deanna stared at him darkly.

He shrugged."There's a war going on in heaven right now," he tossed this new information out so casually. "Little brother is in pretty deep. He'd be here if he knew."

Castiel was fighting a war in heaven. Deanna knew he was more than capable and pretty badass, especially by angel standards, the arrogant dicks, but it was...uncomfortable to think of him fighting without her or Sam as backup.

Gabriel was staring at her."I'm no cupid, Dee-Dee, but the kid's got it bad for you."

Something sour curled in her stomach, and, as his words sunk in, eased. An unknown ache melted away. She had Lisa. She had Ben, and Mary, and a whole new life-but...her body was full of scars, her mind was so fucked up it stopped being funny years ago, and that was it. She wasn't...this. She wasn't normal; she was a fucking Winchester.

Deanna had been raised as Daddy's little solider, not Daddy's little girl, a demon had once said, adding, is it any wonder she turned out to be such a dyke? It's how her father found out about her less then vanilla sex life. From a demon stalker when she was 15.

"Me and Lisa- we have something."

"You love my brother. You don't love her." His words were as blunt as a bullet to the face, about as subtle too.

"Thought you were an archangel, not a cupid."

"I have eyes," he shrugged."It doesn't really matter. Things will work themselves out or they won't, but I'm rooting for you two crazy kids." He winked at her."Have fun, Dee-Dee."

In the next second, he was gone.

Deanna sat still, silently staring at the space where the archangel had been. She got up, and walked into Li-their room. She placed Mary in her cot, covering her up with a rare flash of tenderness. She changed clothes, and crawled in beside the other woman. Lisa was sleeping, but she turned into Deanna's touch, welcoming her.

Maybe...maybe she didn't love Lisa, but she could. She could love her, and have a life with her. Stable, safe, and boringly normal. Deanna closed her eyes. Years of hunting had left her capable of forcing herself into an uneasy sleep, unfortunately it had also left her with instincts that her had flying out of bed, the pistol hidden in the bedside table in her hands, finger pressing on the trigger, safety off, when she was woken by a shrill cry.

Deanna stilled her jumpy trigger finger before she could do any damage. Her heart crashed inside of her chest, pumping panic into her blood. She quickly re-did the safety, and shoved the pistol back into the drawer. She rubbed her face, hissing out a groan between clenched teeth.

"Okay," she said. Behind her, Lisa groaned. She was willing to bet Ben was doing the same. Deanna hesitated. This was something John Winchester, one of the most paranoid son of a bitches under the sun, had never prepared her for.

"Mommy's here?" she said, venturing hopefully from a safe distance.

Mary screamed louder, tiny fists flailing. Nice set of lungs on the girl.

"That's probably the right reaction," Deanna murmured.

She bent over the cot, and scooped Mary up, holding her to her chest. She checked the diaper, and found it clean. She wasn't hungry, or scared. Deanna figured she was just screaming for the sake of it. Deanna left Lisa, face down but quietly supportive, in bed.

Half an hour later, in desperation, Deanna started humming Metallica, hoping the kid took after her in that way and she wouldn't have to break out the prayers.

It turns out she did, which was good because the only prayers Deanna knew where the ones Cas had moaned into her skin, and considering how bad her Latin was, she wasn't entirely sure they were prayers. It figured that her angel talked dirty in Latin.

Her angel as in dude-that-pulled-me-out-of-hell, not as in...she was justifying herself in her own mind.

Awesome.

Just...awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Consequences.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

The second half of the first chapter, heavily edited to correct my mistakes.

* * *

Lisa in the morning was quite a lot like Lisa in the evening, full of badass determination and a ridiculous talent for multi-tasking. The sight of Lisa carrying on a conversation, slicing expertly at whatever was put down in front of her, getting Ben ready for school while cutting through her bullshit had been enough to shock Deanna out of her depressive haze. It was something Bobby hadn't been able to do after she'd stole his couch for a month.

The woman could have made an excellent hunter, but Deanna thanked the dude upstairs that she never did whenever the thought occurred to her.

Lisa's talent allowed Deanna to sneak off to the shower, and steal some of her coconut body wash. When Deanna had first arrived, she hadn't just jumped straight into bed with Lisa. Which said more then Deanna was willing to acknowledge. Anyway, one encounter with Lisa in the shower, and Deanna still felt slightly dizzy whenever she smelt coconuts.

Scrubbed, dressed, and dry, she returned to the kitchen. Ben was playing with Mary, and Lisa was cooking, her back to Deanna. Deanna stopped in the doorway, and watched for a moment. Ben tickled Mary's stomach, and the baby made an almost giggling sound of delight. Deanna found herself smiling as she dislodged herself from the doorway.

She touched Lisa's shoulder, and kissed her slowly when the other woman turned around. Lisa's mouth was soft and warm; her lips were bare of any product. Deanna could feel her smiling into the kiss.

Lisa looked pleased when they broke apart."You're in a good mood."

Deanna shrugged, grinning to herself. "I can drive Ben to school."

Lisa raised an eyebrow."Are you sure?"

"I don't know," she glanced at Ben."Think you can handle my driving, buddy?"

Ben grinned back."Yeah."

Deanna moved forward, and kissed her daughter's chubby hand. The small fingers tightened around hers briefly. Deanna didn't want to leave Mary just yet, but she forced herself to man up.

She drove Ben to school, and almost broke the speed limit getting back. Lisa passed Mary to her almost as soon as she was in the door, quickly kissing them both goodbye.

"Work," she explained briefly, tugging her dark curls into a ponytail.

"Have fun," Deanna said to her back.

Lisa flashed her a smile over her shoulder.

Deanna collected a radio and a deck chair large enough so that her feet dangled off the floor. It was a nice day. Deanna was still feeling pretty beaten up, so she decided to relax outside. After a quick Google check, she felt comfortable enough to take Mary outside.

Mary burrowed into her body tightly as the sunshine touched her face, making a sleepy noise of contentment. Newborns were actually pretty boring; feed them, change them, hold them, and they were perfectly happy.

A warm breeze rustled Deanna's hair, and she tweaked the radio until she found an acceptable song, keeping the music low for the kid.

"Hey, Dean!"

Her eyes snapped open. Ozzie, her kind of co-worker, was waving at her from behind Lisa's fence. Ozzie was an unfairly attractive drama queen who always called her Dean; he was a few years older then her. He was Deanna if she'd been born a dude, and never became a hunter. Flighty, slutty, irresponsible; fun.

A second face popped up beside him. Brian was a younger grad student, and straight man to Deanna and Ozzie's general insanity. He was tall, and kind of weedy, but he knew his music almost as well as his games.

It'd taken weeks before he could even look at Deanna without blushing.

"Oh, God," she groaned. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

"Don't worry," Ozzie said reassuringly."We brought beer now that you can drink again."

He ripped open the fence, and cursed, waving his hand around, staggering across the lawn. Brian followed, considerately closing the gate behind him, and smiled shyly at Deanna.

She thumped the chair beside her in response. Brian sat down, peering at her bloated stomach thoughtfully, a wide smile spread across his face when he spotted Mary. Deanna felt a sharp sting of pride.

"I've never pushed a human being out of my 'lady parts' but I've got to say, ow." Ozzie groaned, waving his hand around in the air.

"It's a splinter from your fence," Brian rolled his eyes with her.

Ozzie shot him a wounded glare, before turning to Deanna. "Beer?" he offered.

"Hell, yeah." She had enough of a footing sanity-wise not to get angsty over tossing a few beers back. She glanced down at Mary, and thanked God for baby formula.

She had _way_ too many memories of other people's mouths and her breasts to be entirely comfortable with a baby being that close. Which was _beyond sick_, but okay.

Ozzie handed her a beer, fingers brushing hers comfortably.

She twisted the cap off, and almost died with the first sip. Her taste buds groaned in contentment at the taste.

Deanna could remember bending over the Impala with Sam, in that year before hell, teaching him about her car, the sun slowly bleaching her dark blond hair light. Just her, Sam, and an ice box full of beer on the open highway. Christ, she _loved _beer.

"Shit," she gasped."I'm never going sober again."

"Soon as the kid's grown up, we're going drinking." Ozzie promised, tossing Brian one.

"I swear to God, if I'd been born with a dick..." Deanna shook her head.

Ozzie grinned."Like I read your mind, huh?" he nudged her arm, grinning loosely."You're an exceptionally hot pregnant woman, Dean. If you ever decide to go back to cock, I'm here for you."

Deanna snorted, and shook her head. "In your dreams."

"Oh, yes," Ozzie grinned lewidly. Brian looked uncomfortably between them.

"You know," the weedy kid said awkwardly. "Most new mom's wouldn't be able to entertain guests."

"Dean's not like other people," Ozzie boasted. "Remember when she took that ex-_marine_ down when he came gunning for yours truly?"

Deanna grinned childishly at the memory. Ozzie had a talent for making enemies. The handsome son of a bitch couldn't keep out of woman's panties long enough to think. They spent a lot of time comparing wild sex stories in the back room when business was slow, and they couldn't drag Brian out of his books.

It was seedy, sure, but sex was a familiar topic for them both. Deanna wasn't the type to talk about personal things, and Ozzie seemed to get that.

"Anyway, what's her name?"

"Mary." Deanna said."After my Mom," she added before either of the boys could put their foot in it, and force her to kill them.

"That's so Harry Potter," Brian gushed.

"You gonna name the next one after Daddy?"

Deanna sipped her beer."I'm not having a next one."

She'd never wanted kids until she had one. The timing had been perfect, and she'd only just started to cope with her reflection when she'd found out. She doubted she would have been able to abort, even if she'd known when Lucifer was still kicking around. Besides, the kid of a hunter and an angel? Bound to be seven kinds of awesome.

Thinking of abortion made Deanna uncomfortable, and she curled her arm around her newborn daughter protectively, lettting her large palm rest across her child's spine. It was strange to think how the little one curled up on her stomach was made from her.

"Accidents happen," Ozzie shrugged.

"Not when _I'm _in bed with a woman."

Ozzie rolled his eyes in aknowledge, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Can I be godfather?"

Brain looked at him, and scowled."If Mary's gonna have a godfather, it should be me. _I'm _the responsible one." He gave Deanna a puppy dog eyed look."Right?"

"You can both be godfather- in spirit," she added, stroking her daughter's back soothingly when the baby stirred against her. She was fairly sure Mary was holy enough.

"Ah." Ozzie grinned understandingly, palm rising. !Atheist five."

"You aren't the Todd," Deanna said, but she grinned, and slapped his palm anyway.

Ben loved Scrubs.

Brian leaned forward, and fiddled with the radio briefly. He glanced at Mary in concern. "Should she really be listening to this?" he paused, and added, "The song and _us_."

"Dude," Deanna said."Relax. She's sleeping. And I don't think her tiny, infant brain can pick up words yet."

"Redrum," Ozzie croaked mockingly, startling a laugh out of Deanna."Redrum..."

"Been a while since I've seen that movie," Brian said, moving to wrap his arms around his knees. He looked like a damn kid. Deanna _almost _found it cute. Goddamnit. Pregnancy had melted her brain.

"We should have a movie night at mine," Ozzie said, leaning forward, and locking an arm around the back of Deanna."If you can handle being the third wheel while I woo Dean."

Deanna snorted derisively."You always call me Dean when you flirt with me," she noted, and gave a wicked grin."Anything you want to tell us?"

Ozzie leaned backwards, scowling at her playfully. His arm alipped away from her shoulders, and he glanced down at Mary with a smile.

Her daughter's eyelids fluttered open, and she looked up at Deanna with wide, curious blue eyes. It struck a cord within, and she leaned down to press her lips to her child's forehead.

Brian grinned at Ozzie."I think someone's in the closet."

"Yeah," Ozzie said, as 'Within Temptation' began blaring (quietly) from the radio."You."

"Emo." Deanna snorted, soaking in the normality, the comfort in the familiar banter so different from hers and Sam's, but somehow similar. She sipped her beer, kicked back and relaxed.

Deanna looked down at her daughter's face, the tiny hands curled weakly into her shirt, and blue eyes, still staring. She smiled, quiet and genuine, a rare wave of contentment washing over her.

Gabriel became a regular part of her life, slotting in perfectly with Mary's nighttime sobs, and her dwindling calls to Cas. Things were rough at first, where the two of them tried to get along, and set each other off like a match to gasoline, snarling in hissing whispers. She shot him once, and he turned all of her sneakers into high frickin' heels.

Deanna also figured out pretty fucking quickly that he _hadn't _been joking about rooting for her and Cas.

"He's never comin' back," she'd pointed out, hating herself for the slight twinge of pain in her voice, and the terrible ache in her chest. "We're dead in the water."

"Oh, Dee-Dee. You of all people should know that nothing ever stays dead," he'd said.

"Since when do you care, anyway?" she'd snapped, and enjoyed the discomfort that flittered across his face. It was only a shadow but she'd gotten pretty frickin' good at spotting emotions from supernatural beings since she'd met Cas.

"I don't," he'd said, shrugging easily.

The next night, Gabriel turned up with a shipping shirt (Cas/Deanna) that he'd claimed to have gotten from Chuck, and she bruised her hand punching him. She was fairly sure Mary's sob was the only thing that stopped him turning all of her sexy underwear into granny panties. Saved by the baby.

He spent the rest of the night, when he wasn't playing with Mary, bitching at her about it, tossing out words like _defensive_ and _totally in love with my little brother_ and then, _put the lamp down!_

Gabriel barely ranked above Ozzie and Brian when it came to Mary. Her two...friends were fighting over a place in her daughter's life, showing up with random gifts, and acting like two irritating uncles. The thought made her think of Mary's _other_ uncle, and Deanna almost puked all over her shoes. It was too painful.

Brian was winning, because Ozzie kept getting distracted by Deanna's rediscovered hotness. He'd even gone as far to say that being a mom suited her in a rare show of seriousness, before falling over Lisa's coffee table, drunk. Movie nights were never boring.

"Do you remember when we went drinking?" Lisa asked as they dragged Ozzie to the couch, and dropped him onto it gracelessly. Ben would have a surprise in the morning when he went to watch his cartoons.

"The only time we ever went drinking, I spent most of the night on the verge of a panic attack that you'd end up dropping dead of alcohol poisoning." After she'd watered down most of Lisa's drinks with holy water. "I try not to."

Lisa grinned wildly, a shadow of her teen self in her smile."I drank you under the table."

Deanna met her grin with a smirk of her own, years of drinking to forget under her belt." We should have a re-match sometime."

Lisa's eyes flickered up the stairs, to the door of Mary's nursery; almost a month old, and her pictures already filled a scrapbook thanks to Ben's continuing obsession.

"I think I can find someone to watch her," she said.

She _would _call Gabriel, if only in the vain hope that seeing the kid in the day would stop him from turning up in the middle of the night, but getting drunk around a Trickster was probably the stupidest thing she could possibly do- other then set Lucifer loose again, but really Deanna was fairly sure even _she_ couldn't screw up that badly a second time.

"I'll consider it," Lisa's smile held a naughty edge.

"We should wash my car tomorrow."

Lisa's eyebrow arched. "You want to torment those poor college boys."

Deanna grinned provocatively, looping her thumbs in the other woman's jeans, tugging her closer."Do it for my poor ego," she said."I want to know if I've still got it."

Lisa's eyes darkened, as did her smile.

"You do," she promised. Her hands trailed up Deanna's trim sides, settling on her ribs.

Pregnancy left very little scaring on Deanna's battle torn body. The tattoo inches above her nipple, Cas' scar on her upper arm, the protections carved into her ribs, and several other less meaningful marks were more profound. Deanna was back to her usual shape.

Lisa called it remarkable.

"Prove it," there was a challene in her voice that Lisa was only too happy to take up.

Moments after their lips collide, crashing together hungrily, something flashed in the window; something bright and so blue that Deanna's heart jumped, and her shock allowed Lisa the upper hand.

Later that night, weary but awake, with a lingering smell of sex, Deanna staggered into her daughter's nursery. Mary hadn't screamed yet, and it worried her. Worry was the last thing on her mind when she walked into the room, and found a naked man leaning over her daughter's cot.

Thundering rage struck hard, followed by a wild, desperate terror Deanna had only ever felt for Sammy before. Standing the doorway of her daughter's room, Deanna wondered if this was how her mother's last moments went.

She'd barely finished that thought before she was moving through the lime green nursery, her hastily grabbed knife slicing through the empty air where the man had been.

Deaf to Mary's soft snores, Deanna turned, knife poised, violence sprinting through her blood. She was going to kill something tonight. No doubt about it. But it might take a while, which is why she fucking hated teleporters; a step below witches.

She had gotten Gabriel a few times, but he never believed she would actually attack him until she did; Trickster ego.

There was a flicker at the edge of her vision, and she turned sharply, grabbing the naked man by the throat, and slamming him against the wall, knife lurching forward, pressing down on his throat. She was being very precise in her actions. One twitch from him would cut his throat irrepairably.

Unless he was an angel, and that was very unlikely. Gabriel had done...something to the house. Deanna had been more worried about calming her daughter than actually listening to him, so she wasn't entirely sure what it was, only that if anyone other than Gabriel tried to get through, they'd be ejected from their meatsuit.

"Who the hell are you?" she snarled, pressing the knife close enough that whatever it was hissed in panic.

Brown eyes stared back at her, at the raging protectiveness in her eyes. There was something distinctively sappy in the bastard's eyes, and something in Deanna pinged with recognition.

The door moved with a quiet creak, and more light flooded into the room. Ben's weary face peered in, mouth open to speak. He stopped, and stared when he saw them; Deanna pinning a naked dude to the wall, murder on her face, a knife in hand.

"Are you going to kill that guy?" Ben asked, sounding far too interested.

"No. Killing a guy would be wrong, killing a creepy son of a bitch lurking in _my _baby's nursery is a whole 'nother story." Deanna said lowly, her eyes are locked onto the dude's.

To Ben, she added,"I'll explain in the morning. Go back to sleep."

"But-" he protested.

"School," she grunted.

"You used to be cool," Ben whined.

Deanna couldn't help but roll her eyes."I'm about to kill something. Now is really not a great time," and, because his complaint may have hit home, she added, "I'll add something extra to your allowance."

"Cool," Ben said."Happy murdering," and he closed the door. Kids.

The guy stared at the door, blinking rapidly in confusion. Deanna slammed her fist into his stomach.

"Oh. Wonderful," she growled when her hand throbbed in pain. "Loki! Some idiot angel wants to molest my kid!"

Your so-called protections don't hold water

.

"What?" Gabriel asked from behind her.

He came when she first called. Deanna _wasn't _bitter about that. Gabriel wasn't fighting a war, he was dicking on random people and bonding with her daughter- more than her fucking father was, but Jesus Christ, she had to remember that it kind of wasn't Cas' fault, since he probably didn't even know.

This was really not the time for this.

"I was trying to bless her," the guy whined unhappily."And I'm a _cupid_."

"That makes more sense," Deanna said, and twirled the knife around her hand threateningly. It wouldn't have much of an effect on the cupid, but the name Winchester carried a lot of weight for a reason. "Why the hell were you blessing her?"

"She's the child of an angel and a mortal-" the cupid babbled, and Deanna could almost see hearts in his eyes when he looked at her.

"Seriously?" she murmured in Gabriel's general direction."Does everybody _but _Cas know?"

Jesus Christ, wasn't she supposed to be the dense one?

Gabriel smirked at her."Pretty much."

Deanna sighed to herself, and tried to focus on the matter at hand and not on how much of a friggin' idiot Cas could be. "So," she said."This guy harmless?"

Footsteps creak across the floor as Gabriel came closer, peering up at cupid. "As harmless as any cupid can be."

Deanna took it as a yes, and lowered her knife, slowly backing off. Deanna wondered when exactly she'd started trusting _this_ archangel.

"Go," Deanna said.

"But-" the cupid protested, shooting a longing glance at her baby's cot.

"What?" Deanna demanded, voice crackling with some dangerous.

The cupid hesitated, wavering frantically as self preservation tried to kick in.

"Why are you so desperate to bless the kid?" Gabriel asked, and, _holy shit_, was he being the sensible one?

Deanna considered anger managment therapy, because, just, no. No to that thought, forever.

"The union between an angel and a hunter," the cupid sighed, turning to mush against the wall."It's the things fairytales are made of."

Anger flared up, unreasonable and violent, and she gritted her teeth, gnashing down on the sudden urge to scream."Oh, yeah?" Deanna snarled brutally."Wanna know how our fairytale ended?"

"Deanna," Gabriel said, and his borrowed hand brushed her arm. She turned sharply on the spot, stalking across the room, shoving the wicked knife into her waistband, and gently swept Mary up in her arms. Her small, peaceful face soothed Deanna's bitter hurt.

The cupid gasped something in what Deanna was certain to be Enochian, and disappeared.

"Oh, that's going to be a bitch to explain," Gabriel said, staring after him with a grimace.

"Huh?" Deanna muttered, unconcerned. The threat was gone, and her kid was okay.

"He thinks we're screwing," he said bluntly, and eyed her disgusted expression out of the corner of his eyes. "He's green enough to be fooled. If I say Castiel is going to kill me, will you take me to a whore house?"

"You know about that?" she demanded.

His teeth bared in a grin."_Everyone_ knows about it."

Deanna took a moment to progress this."_Pervy_ angels."

Deanna drove Ben to school that morning, as usual. Mary was tucked up safely in her car seat beside him. One the way to school, Deanna explained, carefully editing around the part where 'Uncle' Gabriel realised he may be on the wrong end of an angelic temper tantrum, and, as a tradition, tried to get into her pants.

What was with that, anyway?

"Cupids," Ben repeated, doing something that made Mary giggle."That's lame. Why was he naked?"

Deanna shrugged. "Hey, at least you didn't get hugged by one."

There was an abrupt silence from behind her. "You got hugged by a naked cupid?"

Deanna felt slightly embarrassed. She'd probably just lost cool points in Ben's eyes."He snuck up on me. From behind."

There was a puff of laughter."That's makes it worse!"

"He got Cas too," she said thoughtlessly. She was making progress but not enough to say her brother's name outloud while she was driving.

"Mary's dad?" Ben asked so casually that she barely thought about it before nodding.

"Shit," she said, feeling reluctantly impressed, and glanced back at him. "How'd you guess?"

Ben shrugged at her, unconcerned. "It was pretty obvious. You mentioned him a lot when you came back."

She hadn't mentioned Sam, hadn't been able to without risking _everything _she'd spent that month at Bobby's rebuilding.

"Oh, thank God." Deanna murmured as she turned into the school.

"Bye," Ben said, kissing Mary on the head, and clambered out of the car. Deanna followed him out.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow, crossing her arms playfully across her tank top. She loved this part.

Ben stared at her with dawning horror."No."

"Yes," she stalked over to him, and kissed his cheek, making sure to leave a lipstick mark. She borrowed a tube from Lisa just to mess with the kid.

Ben gave her grinning face a dismayed look, and rushed off, blending into the rest of his class. Deanna saw him rubbing at his cheek, and climbed back in the car, laughing. Screwing with Ben's head never got old.

As Ben disappeared from her sight, and she turned out of the parking lot, Deanna's phone beeped. She checked it quickly.

Had 2 go 2 work early.

Deanna texted back an aknowledgement, and changed her destination to the music store. Brian and Ozzie had been bugging her to drop by for the last few days. Deanna parked quickly, and slipped out of her car, slamming the door behind her. She opened the back door, and unbuckled her daughter, sweeping Mary into her arms.

Mary took a moment to settle against her, clinging to her shirt in quiet contentment. She was a very quiet baby. She was cuddly, and sometimes fussy, but never loud. As Deanna passed a shop window, she saw that Mary was awake, and staring up at her with her wide blue eyes.

Deanna pulled her daughter in closely, her lips curving upwards. Mary made a happy noise, chubby fist clenching and releasing on her shirt, incoherent babbling spilling from her mouth.

"Very interesting," she told her, and Mary gurgled in response.

A guy held the music shop door open for her, and smiled at her murmured thanks.

"Hey. What's up?" Deanna asked, as she caught sight of Brian, who was hunched over one of his books while Ozzie manned the cash register.

Brian looked up, and grinned at her. He straightened up, and met her half way, ducking to kiss Mary's forehead, earning a small 'mooing' noise. His eyes were soft as he looked at her daughter.

"Nothing much," he said, glancing around the store.

His kind eyes returned to her, and he smiled again, as if against his will. It was strange for people to smile when they saw her instead of leer. Not that _that _didn't still happen, but not as much as it had.

Deanna had never really had friends before; Bobby was family, she hit on Jo, ended up with Cas, and got Ellen killed. Which was sad as hell, and she should know.

"What are you doing here?" Brian asked, sitting, and pulling her down beside him. Deanna absently switched to cradling Mary instead of carrying. There was a pushchair at Lisa's, but Deanna preferred to carry her daughter close.

"Boredom," she answered frankly.

Brian nodded, and leaned forward, his elbow on one of his books. Ready to mock him, Deanna glanced down at the books. Her barb died on her lips when she recognised a symbol from her hunting years. It was familiar, but she couldn't quite remember how.

"What's with the books?" Deanna asked casually, turning her mind inside out, shaking and rattling desperately.

Brian shrugged, clueless. But she noticed how carefully he watched her and the concern in his gaze.

Pregnancy fucked the body up, but it did little damage to the brain. If there was something demonic, or whatever, wrong with Brian she would have noticed. They've been friends for almost a year, so yeah; she would have noticed anything supernatural about him.

But...hell, she couldn't completely trust herself anymore. Her body was in shape, in theory, but her hunter instincts were rusty.

She knew Brian. He was the shy, gawky kid who took a month before he could stop blushing around her. She trusted him, but Deanna had never been on board with the whole blind faith deal.

"Where'd you get 'em from?" she asked, keeping her tone light. Brain touched the corner of a page, staring at her uncertainly.

"My grandfather gave them to me when he passed away..." he said slowly.

Deanna remembered that. The kid had been pretty close to him. She'd taken him out for a drink when he admitted that he was having trouble getting past it. She'd spent most of the night bitterly envious of the lucky bastards able to drink themselves unconscious, and reliving some of the worst parts of her life.

Now, she damn well knew the sheer _irony_ in her giving anyone advice on how to let go- she went to hell for her little brother, and started the end of the world, but she could honestly say she'd do it all again- but the only other person the kid had to lean on was Ozzie, and considering Brian's luck, he would come out of _that_ with an STD.

There was a hopeful glint in his eyes when he asked, "You've read it?"

"Not sure," she shrugged loosely, and flashed him a quick grin."Mind if I borrow it?"

"Go ahead," he swept it off the table, and made as if to give it to her, before realising her arms were full of infant. Deanna smirked at his sheepish expression as he put the book back on the table."It doesn't make any sense to me. If you figure it out, will you help me?"

"Sure," she looked down at Mary, who fidgeted as if to remind Deanna she was still awake."I should start learning how to help with homework anyway."

"God." Ozzie groaned, sliding into place beside her. He kissed Mary's hand briefly, and shot them both looks of deep disgust.

"I've already given Brian up as a lost cause, but you, too?" he glared at the book as if it had personally offended him."Don't leave me with two geeky co-workers, Dean. I couldn't stand it."

"Don't worry," she said, and rolled her eyes."I'm no geek-"

"That's what they all say," Ozzie groaned. Suddenly, he brightened up."The only way you can save my fragile hopes is to tell me you and Lisa had hot lesbian sex."

Lisa had been mostly straight when they'd first met, but it wasn't the first time sheer Winchester charm had turned someone. Deanna was more bisexual then lesbian, but she'd never been one to trip over the details.

"We did," Deanna found her way to a dirty, bragging grin."It was great."

"Details, Dean," Ozzie said, tossing an arm around her affectionately, amping the charm up. "Details."

Brian looked at Mary like he expected her ears to bleed.

Deanna decided to toss him a lifeline."Hey, Brian. Could you go to my car, and grab Mary's baby bag?" she shifted Mary in her arms, wedged a hand downwards, and wiggled her keys out of her pocket.

"Sure." Brian stood up, and caught her flying keys. Deanna's brain hitched slightly at the simple action of trust from her. Clearly the book had rattled her, 'cause it'd been a while since that had bothered her.

There were few people in the world she trusted with her other baby, and even fewer with the one she hugged to her breast. Brian was one of these people. It would...suck if he turned out to be demon or a witch, or something.

"So," Ozzie said, his cheek bumping against hers playfully, stealing her attention like that eager puppy Sam had begged for when he was a kid. "Tell me everything."

Deanna smirked at her pervy friend, leaning comfortably into his arm. She remembered dislocating his shoulder the first time he grabbed her into one of his random, half-hugs.

Deanna had barely parked her car when Ben clambered in, frowning at the back of her head. Deanna caught his gaze in the mirror, and frowned back.

"I'm not late," she said abruptly, but a questioning tone crept in.

"No," he said, frown downgrading into a scowl. "It isn't you," he said, possibly seeing the metaphorical smoke coming out of her ears as she tried to figure out what she did to piss the kid off.

Deanna glanced at the school, scanning for any focused eyes; any stares. Some people looked at her car in what had better be admiration, but that was it.

"If it's a boy, hit him. If it's a girl, kiss her." Deanna paused."If it's a teacher, let me and your mom deal with it."

That was as far as her parental advice went. Thank God for Lisa. Seriously, Deanna had already kinda raised an Antichrist, she didn't want to raise another one, no matter how much she loved Sam.

Ben stared at her, and she was glad to notice an amused twitch to the corners of his mouth. She started up her baby, and backed out of the parking space.

"Is that what you did in school?" Ben asked.

Not really. She didn't have a dad around long enough to stand up for her. She fought her and Sammy's battles with words and her fists, but she didn't know how to explain that to Ben, so she didn't try.

"Not really. I'm a chick, I have the benefit of being able to smack whichever gender I want. Freakin' double standards," she shook her head, keeping her voice light, and her mouth grinning. "But for the most part, yeah. I was damn near murdered by a nun for it, too."

Ben boggled, mouth and eyes going round."Nun?"

Mary cooed mindlessly in the back.

"Catholic school," Deanna growled with deep seated bitterness."They didn't take well to the fights any better then the homosexuality. Or the hetrosexuality now that I think about it."

As Ben choked on his laughter, and the Impala sped down the road towards home, she remembered being literally hurled into holy water for coming into school with one of her shortest skirts, and asking a random, blushing student to be her Adam.

So, yeah. She hadn't exactly been surprised when she ended up in hell; she'd been expecting it years before she ever made that deal.

Ben was still laughing when she parked the car, and got out. Deanna unbuckled her daughter from the car, and lifted Mary into her arms. Ben's hair was mussed, his eyes were bright, and he was curled up from fits of laughter.

Mary suddenly whimpered in her arms, burrowing deeper into her side, soft fearful noises coming from her throat. The sounds torn at Deanna, and she clutched the baby closer. Ben's laughter began dying out, and his face softened in concern.

"Shh," Deanna rubbed her baby's back, and glanced at the house.

It looked exactly the same; homely and pleasant. Instinctively, she bent low, and peered at the porch. The flowerpots had been moved, just slightly. She could see the edge of one of the protections she put up had been erased.

A grim feeling settled over Deanna, and she knew the others were broken too, but how? The place was near Bobby's level of paranoia, and some of the demonic bastards still got through? She stood slowly, and met Ben's wide, frightened eyes.

"You have your hunter face on," he whispered, and his voice shook."What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," she said, her voice steady and confident from years of experience."Here," she handed Mary to him, and moved to the trunk of her car. She grabbed a few bottles of holy water, and a gun. She replaced the false bottom, and pushed down the trunk.

Deanna emptied his backpack, hiding the gun under mounds of Ben's school things. She put the holy water at the top, and left the bag open. She pushed it beside him, and paused. Ben was sitting still, staring at her, pale.

Instinctively, she brushed his cheek.

"Hey," she murmured."I'll take care of this. I swear. Just stay in here with your sister, and throw this," she tapped a bottle of holy water,"at anyone who tries to get into the car. _Anyone_." She held his stare forcefully."Me, your mom, your teacher, whoever."

"Okay," he nodded bravely, clutching Mary's form. Small distressed sounds kept on coming from her daughter's form. Deanna touched her daughter's head briefly as she leaned forward to press a kiss to Ben's forehead. Becoming a mom had changed her, made her softer, _and_ harder.

"I've done this stuff before, remember?" she said, cocking a brow at him, and summoning a loose grin. She dropped the keys into his lap."Lock the door after I'm gone."

There was a brief spasm of pride in her chest when she closed the door, and the locks went up instantly. Good boy. He listened. Deanna went back to the trunk, and cracked her knuckles. She never went anywhere without a weapon, but a normal life had lessened the weapons she carried around.

She shoved a smaller bottle of holy water down her cleavage, rolled her shoulders back into her coat, feeling the gun resting in the back of her waistband bump against her straightened spine. Knives were so much easier to hide, but Deanna was a gun girl; better aim.

Deanna strolled up to the house with Ben's gaze burning into her back. She stopped at the doorway, glancing up at the other protections she'd carved into the wood; they'd been scratched over. Whoever decided to fuck up her life wasn't exactly being subtle about it.

Deanna bent her arm back, pulling the gun from the small of her back, and swung the door open with enough force that it slammed into the wall.

"Honey," she flashed a grin she didn't feel, and clicked the safety off for dramatic effect,"I'm homicidal."

"Oh, Deanna. How witty of you," the bitch possessing Lisa simpered, fluttering her eyelashes mockingly. She was standing in the hall, smiling at Deanna prettily.

A uncontrollable rage climbed out of her stomach, fiery like the depths of hell, and just as bloodthirsty. She held herself back by a thread. There was something about this demon, staring out at her from under Lisa's lashes. Her devil traps had probably been destroyed, and she had a feeling this bitch wasn't going down easily.

"Impressive protections by the way," the bitch cooed, stepping forward."It took us weeks to get through."

Deanna kicked the door closed behind her, and rolled her neck. "Well, sweetheart, I learned from the best."

"Ah, yes," there was a sickly sweet smile on her face."Papa Winchester. You always did look up to him," she strolled forward, a faux seductive sway to her hips, and her lids grew heavy as Deanna's face grew tighter in rage. "Ah, baby. Haven't figured it out, yet?"

"Meg," she growled."Like a fucking cockroach. You're back."

Meg flinched backwards as if hurt, and pouted up at her."Aww, Deanna, from anyone else that would hurt, but considering your track record with those who just _won't _stay down, I'll take it as a compliment." Suddenly, she winked."I heard you've got another toy, a Trickster who you and Sammy boy just couldn't kill."

Lisa's in that body, somewhere,

Deanna reminded herself forcefully, her brother's name coming out of that bitch's temporary body in such a mocking _coo_infuriating her.

Meg flicked Lisa's hair out of her eyes."I heard he's playing daddy to your spawn while the angel's aw-ah!"

Deanna withdrew her fist from Lisa's stomach, and smashed her elbow into her nose, but she held off on some of the pressure, bruising, not breaking. She'd make it up to Lisa later. Meg grunted in pain, and slammed her elbow into the back of Deanna's spine. She grimaced at the blow, and staggered to the left, kicking out with her leg, hitting the side of Meg's ribs hard enough to send her to the floor with a cry of pain.

Deanna turned sharply on her heel, and fired a round of rock salt into Meg's breasts. The demon bitch gasped, and staggered back to her feet- or tried too, a second kick send her back down. Meg struck out with her legs, but Deanna managed to jump over the first attack. The second one tripped her, however, and she landed hard, jolts of pain running up her thigh and elbow, smacking her teeth together, and sending the gun jumping out of her hand.

"Ouch," Meg snarled."That'll bruise like a bitch."

"I'll kiss it better," Deanna growled, and lurched forward onto Meg's lap, smashing her fist into her one side of her face, and then using her other fist to damage the other side. Her knuckles throbbed, and holy shit, she was really going to owe Lisa for this. Breakfast in bed for weeks kind of owe, because Deanna _could _cook, she just didn't like to.

"Kinky," Meg gasped around a split lip, and slammed her palm into Deanna's stomach with enough force to send her backwards. Meg climbed on top of her, and brought their hips together roughly. "Oh," the demon gasped, almost dizzily."She _wants_ you like this..."

"Demons aren't my thing," Deanna hissed, her voice rough with pain. She could taste blood in her mouth, and her heart raced with a familiar rush. She'd _missed_ this so much.

Deanna felt something inside of her click back into place, a strong sense of _rightness_ washing over her, and as wonderful as that was, it really _wasn't_ the fucking time. With this in mind, she rocked her hips up violently, and shook Meg off. As the demon fell off of her, she felt something _move_, something being a gun, a gun being moved away from her body, and aimed at her.

Meg staggered to her feet, pointing the gun somewhat unsteadily at her, bleeding, bruised, and pissed off. Horror upon horror, Deanna recognised the gun as being an _actual_ gun, filled with _actual_ bullets.

Deanna slowly rose to her feet, arms slightly open, palms facing down to show she was weaponless. Which she wasn't, as Meg already knew, but whatever.

"It's such a shame I can't kill you with my bare hands," Meg mused, chest rising and falling rapidly, running a longing eye over Deanna's body, clicking the safety off. "Pregnancy hasn't dulled you at all."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Deanna murmured. Meg looked at her, and she shrugged, grinning with arrogance she didn't feel."Means you're too scared to risk getting close enough for me to fight back."

Some of Meg's coy playfulness disappeared, flashes of the real demon shone through, but that didn't really bother her. She'd seen so much worse in hell, years of being used as a knife sharpener by Alistair, and then as his personal fuck toy, tended to make quite a lot of things harmless by comparison.

"You're not as good as daddy," Meg sneered.

"Neither are you," Deanna shot back. Meg's eyes became an inky black, and she almost flinched at seeing the demon in Lisa's sweet face. Rage clawed across the bitch's face.

"You-" the demon snarled, seemingly having forgotten the gun in her hands- demons these days- when the door opened. Deanna's stomach was already dropping long before Ben ran in, gun in one hand, holy water in the other; pale-faced and frickin' terrified, but _determined._

Meg's eyes settled on Ben as the young boy's gaze was drawn to her, as the remaining color drained from his face, and confusion replaced terror. Deanna's already tense muscles coiled tightly, ready to haul the boy out of the firing line, when something changed on Meg's face- no, no, holy shit, _Lisa's_ face.

Lisa was _strong_, but not that strong. It wasn't possible, but Lisa was _there_.

"M-Mom..." Ben ventured unsurely, gun wavering in his grip. He looked to Deanna for answers, confused and pleading, and he really didn't get it but he understood that _something _was wrong, maybe because Mommy was pointing a gun at her.

"Possession," Deanna breathed. The air was taut with tension, and there was a struggle on Lisa's face; there was pain, and love, and determination. There were flashes of Meg, but she was soon dragged back, weakened. Deanna could see the effort in Lisa's face, the desperate struggle her son's face provoked.

"Mom," Ben said again, perhaps he saw it too."Mom," he repeated, and stepped forward, eyes widening pleadingly.

"Deanna," Lisa choked, and locked eyes with her. The desperate pleading on her face unsettled Deanna, and something like grief grabbed her insides, and _squeezed _tightly enough that she almost gasped.

"Take care of him," she begged, her voice quiet and final. There was a second between them, of eye contact, and silent promises because some part of Deanna got it while the other flailed in confusion, in denial.

Lisa and Meg fought inside of her girlfriend's body, but Lisa's arm rose without hesitation, and turned the gun on herself.

By the time, Meg would have been able to claw back in, blood was staining the walls.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

This chapter is going to be pretty boring, as...Well, I can't just BRUSH over Lisa's death. So, this is a grieving chapter, but I can promise some asskicking!Deanna next chapter.

I can also promise some Cas in the next chapter.

**A/N: The first chapter has been edited, and split in half. I recommend a re-read. **

* * *

Deanna balanced Mary in one arm, and reached for Ben with the other. The boy clung to her hand with a silent desperate only recently traumatised kids were capable of. She squeezed his hand briefly, closing her other baby's door with a sharp thrust of her hip. She sighed wearily, blowing loose strands of hair out of her face.

Her small family was standing in the parking lot of a motel, and the scene was way too familiar: a Winchester with two small kids in a motel parking lot, and death in the air. Considering some of the dumps Deanna had slept in over the years, this motel was heaven, but she knew it would be a far cry from the comfortable normality Lisa's provided.

Only there was nothing comforting about _that_ anymore.

Conflict chewed on her insides with such vigor that Deanna was left with the vague flashes of memory she had of her first death. The last couple of months had changed her. Deanna absently kissed her daughter's forehead, and glanced at Ben's brooding expression.

Hunter Deanna wanted to get the hell out of dodge, and start kicking demon ass until she found the simpering bitch who made Lisa pop a bullet in her brain, but Mom Deanna knew there was shit that needed to be taken care of; Ben's school, police reports, the house, Lisa's things. Hunter Deanna was pissed off and grieving, but Mom Deanna needed to take care of her kids.

Either way, they needed to leave town pretty quick.

"We're only getting older," Deanna said quietly to herself. Shit. Older. Lisa would never get older. She shot Ben a sidelong glance, but he didn't seem to have heard her. She stroked the back of his hand in one wide stroke with her thumb. The doctors had said something about shock.

It reminded Deanna of herself and Lucas, all those years ago. She wondered what'd happened to that kid, how his mom coped when her son stopped talking. Hell, how _her_ dad had coped. She'd wanted to take care of Sammy and Dad for Mom, but the last thing she'd wanted to do was talk. She'd spent months silently wondering if it had been something she'd done to send her Mom away, but Ben was old enough to know better.

Well, either way, she was perfectly content to allow the kid his silence if it made him feel better.

"Here," Deanna said, and knelt beside him. She turned his face to hers."Mind holding your sister for me while I get our things out of the trunk?"

Ben's gaze slid slowly to Mary's quiet form. As if prompted, the girl suddenly reached for him, cooing gently. Something in Ben's expression changed, and he took her from Deanna's arms, hugging the baby closely. He looked at Deanna fiercely, as if expecting a fight to keep her in his sight, and Mary in his arms.

Deanna stood, and ruffled his hair slightly as she moved past him to pop open the trunk. She grabbed one of the bags, and, swinging it over her shoulder, she closed the trunk. She locked her car, and took a hold of Ben's shoulder, walking with him into the motel.

Mary gurgled slightly at the motel manager, a rounded man with dark hair and an unsubtle way of checking out Deanna's cleavage because blood splatter, two kids (one with vaguely dead eyes) and an expression shadowed with grief wasn't enough of a hint. _Seriously?_

"Good evening," the guy said, some of his earnest smile faltering in the face of her uninterested expression."How can I help you?"

"One room, two queens, and..." she glanced at her daughter, switching her gaze back to the dude quickly, giving him a puzzled look.

His smile was reassuring."We have some cots for young children."

Deanna mustered up a vague smile in response. "Wonderful. How much for the week?"

Ben's eyes narrowed on her back as she paid, dragging some of her charm to the surface. The guy called a round-faced girl to the counter, and showed them to the room, getting a cot out for her daughter.

"Thanks," Deanna said, interjecting weariness into her voice. It wasn't tough since she was a few minutes away from dropping.

The guy, Arnold, nodded."I'll let you get some rest," and slipped out of the room. As room as the door clicked shut, Deanna tossed the bags onto the bed, and began digging for salt.

The floorboards creaked under Ben's feet as he laid Mary gently down into the cot. Bedsprings groaned vocally as he sat down, and watched as she made a salt line in the doorway. When Deanna got up, and moved to one of the windows, the springs groaned again. She watched Ben's reflection in the window as he stood from the bed, made his way across the floor, and pulled another bag of salt out of the large bag.

Without a word, he made a thick salt line on the windowstill. A little thicker then she usually did it, but not bad for a first try. Deanna checked her absent-minded work briefly, unsurprised to find it perfect. She could have done a simple salt line in her sleep. Hell, she'd done a lot more complicated things in worse states then asleep.

Deanna closed the curtains, and heard Ben doing the same. They looked at each other silently for a moment. Deanna's lips twisted thoughtfully. "There's a red can of spray paint in the bag, hand it to me."

Ben nodded, and dug in the bag for the can, silently handing it to her.

"This is going to be a bitch to clean," Deanna cautioned, kicking a random rug off of the floorboards, kneeling. Ben remained standing, staring at her expressionlessly. It was a weird expression to see on a kid's face, let alone _this_ kid's face."Sit with me," she said.

Ben sat, hugging his knees to his chest. He didn't speak as she began to draw the Devil's trap, watching with an unnerving silence that reminded her of Mary and Cas. Sam had been a loud child, until she'd taught him how to read, and then she'd been lucky to get a few words out of him.

"A week," Ben rasped as she dusted her hands. Deanna paused in her actions, glancing at him in faint surprise.

"Yeah. A week." she decided not to make a big deal of it.

"What happens after a week?" he mumbled to the floor.

"I don't know," Deanna said carefully. "What do you want to happen?"

"I want to stay with you," Ben said, lifting his eyes, and pinning her with a pleading look.

"Are you sure?" It might have been safer for him to stay with someone else, but. But... Meg could pick him off easily if he wasn't being protected by someone in the know.

"Yes," he nodded. It was as emotional as she'd seen him since Lisa...

"We can't stay here," she warned him. "It's too dangerous. We'll have to leave soon, and you won't be able to come back."

"I'm not going to change my mind," there was a quiet, convincing confidence in his face. Suddenly, his eyes flickered, becoming shiny and wet."In the morning, will you tell me what happened to Mom? What did that to her?"

A heartbeat passed. "I'm not sure you want to know," Deanna said, but remembered months of begging her Dad to tell her where Mom went. She'd felt really shitty when he'd finally caved, and told her in short, angry sentences, snarling at her to never mention it again, but it'd been better then not knowing.

She wasn't going to become her father over this. She loved the man, but that was the last thing she wanted. Excellent hunter, shitty parent.

"In the morning," she said before Ben could argue against her previous statement.

Ben grabbed a pair of his pajamas from the bag, and headed for the bathroom. As the door clicked shut, she lifted a hand to rub at her face.

"I have no idea what the hell to do with that poor kid," Deanna sighed to her daughter, crossing the room to lean over the cot. She stroked down her daughter's tiny stomach, adjusting the blanket over her.

Mary reached out, blindly latching onto Deanna's fingers. Deanna rested her forehead against her daughter's hand, closing her eyes wearily. "Poor Lisa," she murmured, her voice hushed and sad. "I should have told her more about possession," she confided quietly, keeping an ear out for Ben's movements.

There was no way in hell she'd fall for the kid-listening-in-on-damning-truth cliche. Especially since she wasn't sure if Lisa having more knowledge on possessions would have helped. Lisa had been clinging onto her body with the tips of her finger tips. A second longer, and Meg would have been back. Deanna wished she'd kicked the gun out of Lisa's hand while she'd had the chance, but she'd been too surprised.

Lisa had broken free, and she'd wasted time like a newbie instead of the experienced hunter she was. How the hell was she supposed to keep her family safe if she couldn't trust herself anymore?

Mary's tiny hand clenched around her finger reproachfully.

"Ow," Deanna straightened up, rubbing the back of her daughter's hand with the pad of her thumb."You've got Daddy's grip," she told her, and the grip relaxed. "Thank you," she said, and kissed her daughter's hand.

Deanna pulled a pair of guns out of the bag, and shoved them under her pillows. She avoided looking at the weapons, remembering how one of her _actual _guns with _actual _bullets had looked in Lisa's dainty hands. Turned out a hot chick with a gun was only attractive when they weren't blowing their brains out in desperation.

She hauled the bag off of the bed. Deanna pulled off her shirt, muscles flexing. She glanced down at herself, scanning for bruises, and finding only minor ones. She'd been worse off from certain playground brawls. That was odd, but hey, she wasn't going to cry about it. Deanna pulled a cotton tank on, followed by a pair of shorts.

As she shoved her clothes into the bag, making a mental note to grab some more stuff tomorrow, her hand hit something plastic. A frown haunted her mouth as she tried to remember what she'd packed. Her mind had been on a shocked loop, but she had faint memories of grabbing her easiest to find weapons and some others things. She pulled the object out; it was a toothbrush.

"I'm a mom now," Deanna reminded herself. "I should pretend to be responsible."

She tossed the toothbrush onto her bed, and searched for the other one. Once she found her toothbrush, she grabbed Mary's bottle. She'd been aware enough to grab some baby formula, and the motel room had a kitchen.

"Awesome," she murmured, dropping the baby bottle on the counter alongside the tub of formula. She grabbed one of her more modest shirts, and tossed it beside those things. Deanna scooped her daughter up, and carried her into the kitchen, laying her gently down on the counter, using the shirt as a pillow.

She started tossing the formula together with practiced ease when the bathroom door creaked open, and Ben shuffled in. Deanna glanced up, her stomach twisted into knots when she saw the redness around Ben's eyes.

"Hey," she said, as if she hadn't noticed. Ben's face twitched towards her, but not enough to get a proper look at him. Ashamed. Lucky for him, she wasn't the talk about your feelings type. "Go brush your teeth."

Ben nodded, grabbing his toothbrush, and hurriedly disappearing into the bathroom. A young boy rushing into the bathroom was easily enough to stomach, but to cry?

Deanna had never been one for physical contact outside of sex or fights but who else was going to comfort the poor kid?

Whenever Sammy had gotten scared or upset, he'd always crawled into bed with her, long, thin arms clinging onto her. After their Mom had died, she'd spent months creeping into her Dad's bed with Sam, and it had taken a year before she'd been able to sleep in a different bed from Sammy, and even then he'd _have _to be in the same room.

She'd lost a lot of sleep when her baby brother left for Stanford, constantly woken up in a panic when she couldn't hear his snores. It still got her sometimes, and Deanna would rather go back to being merrily roasted on the flames of hell then admit to that.

Deanna remembered having to calculate how long it would take to get to her daughter if a demon got past her defenses before she could sleep. She frowned at the baby bottle in her hand. Today, a demon _had _gotten past her defenses.

She puzzled over this as she tested the temperature, lifted Mary into her arms, and started to feed her. She'd used _everything_ 26 years of hunting had taught her on that house, and then some since Gabriel was actually capable of being helpful when pushed to it, but somehow Meg still got to Lisa.

Lisa wouldn't have screwed with the protections, even if she didn't understand _why_ Deanna was being so paranoid, or why she became such a jerk whenever she tried to. Deanna's insides twisted with regret. Should have been more open with Lisa, should have stopped being a whiny bitch over Cas a lot sooner, should have gotten over Sammy sooner.

Deanna shook her head. She could make it up to Lisa by not becoming all emo while her son was in the bathroom, on the verge of waking up to his grief.

Lisa was out. Ben would have told her if he'd accidentally smudged one of her protections, and even if he had there were thirty or so more keeping the monsters out, and she sure as hell hadn't disturbed anything. It was broken from the outside, no other way.

No demon could have gotten through, so maybe it wasn't a demon?

It wouldn't be the first time some sick bastard knowingly danced the tango with a demon. It had to be someone in the know, because even the dumbest person in the world would have to wonder why someone was egging them on to break a bunch of strange chalk drawings from a safe distance.

Only problem is she hadn't seen anyone lurking around the house, and she would have, being an infamous connoisseur of the fucking weird.

"Goddamnit," she groaned, shifting Mary in her arm. Mary stopped suckling the bottle long enough to look at her. "Not hungry anymore?" she asked, and the infant clearly disagreed, starting to feed again. "Huh," Deanna murmured, tilting the bottle to give the baby better access. "Maybe Brian's right, and I should stop swearing around you."

All of a sudden, Deanna flashed back to the book tossed carelessly to the bottom of her car, forgotten in the wake of Lisa's death. Brian and Ozzie had been having a pissing contest over Mary since her birth, over near constantly, trying to be the favourite uncle.

Brian had been her friend for almost a year, but people change when they get a taste of power; like Sam and his demon blood. A old, bitter hurt rose up, eating away at her insides like acid. Deanna forced herself to breath through it. She should have expected this.

Winchesters _didn't_ have friends; they had self-loathing, dead (or demonic, or MIA, or whatever) lovers, and family. If they were lucky.

_And_, Deanna's brain supplied, a more familiar emotion taking root, _revenge._

Anger boiled under her skin, clawing it's way inside of her, screaming for blood as her muscles coiled tightly.

Mary let out a sudden whimper around the bottle, and anger was smashed back down by concern. Deanna's eyes snapped down to her daughter as the bottle slipped out of the baby's mouth. She dropped it onto the side, and supported Mary fully. A shock of shame drowned the dying flames of her lingering rage, and she rocked her baby gently, frantic eyes searching for any marks on the infant.

The thought of her anger harming her child made Deanna feel physically sick. Her limbs suddenly felt shaky with guilt. Mary reached upwards, and clutched at a strand of dark blond hair, calming down when Deanna boosted her up to rest against her cleavage. Mary cooed in contentment, sucking on the strand of hair.

Deanna took this as a sign that she hadn't hurt her, maybe frightened her a bit, but not hurt her. As she began to stroke the back of her daughter's beautiful blond curls, the sound of rushed footsteps echoed through the room, and Ben ran into the kitchen seconds later. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but the redness was gone from his eyes.

A toothbrush dangled from his mouth, and a white trail of toothpaste dripped out of his mouth, filling Deanna's mind with a ton of dirty jokes. It might have been funny, if there hadn't been genuine panic in the kid's eyes. If it was any other day.

"She's fine," Deanna said, switching from petting her daughter's hair to trying to save her own hair from being chewed on.

"I'll be back in a second," Ben mumbled around the toothbrush in his mouth. He walked back into the bathroom, and she heard him spit, then the sound of running water. "I can change her while you brush yours," Ben offered quietly, sad eyes lowered.

A pang of raw grief shot through Deanna, disrupting her forced calm. She was going to miss Lisa, her wide smile and her patient yet tough personality, but she could handle it. As much as she hated to admit it, the feeling had nothing on losing Sam or Cas. With Lisa things always felt a little unreal, in the awkward sense of the word.

Deanna was sure most people blocked out their loved ones flaws when they died, instead of realising them. Her memories of the dead were always tainted.

"I think she needs a bath," Deanna said, ducking down to transfer the baby into Ben's arms. Her dark blond strand slipped through her daughter's slackening grip. They'd had the talk about pulling Mommy's hair, and how she was never supposed to repeat the things Mommy said when baby didn't let go.

"I'll help," Ben said, holding Mary.

Deanna almost went to protest when she realised Ben was probably holding off on sleeping. A complicated rush of emotions swarmed her, so she nodded mutely, grabbed her toothbrush, and slipped into the bathroom. As she squeezed toothpaste onto the brush, she cursed herself for being so unaffected by this. Lisa was dead, and her boat was barely rocked.

Time was this could send her spiraling into a mindless rage of horror and senseless guilt that could have her doing things that brought such a heartbroken look to Cas' face that she apologised for not being what he expected, and made things a whole lot worse.

Frickin' hell. She was seriously thinking of her ex while her girlfriend's brains were being scrapped off of the walls back home? Despite the Get Out Of Hell free card burned into her flesh, she was going back there, and she deserved it more then ever, and considering some of the awful shit Deanna had done over the years (pre and post-hell) that was saying a lot of things she couldn't bare to think about.

"Lets see how long I last this time around," Deanna murmured, and wondered if she could top thirty years, amp up her score card. She shook her head, and brought the toothbrush to her mouth, scrubbing fiercely. She caught her own gaze in the mirror briefly, green eyes to green, and looked away, at the small signs of blood splatter around her dark tank top.

When was the last time she'd kissed Lisa? Was she scrubbing the last of the woman from her mouth in rough, careless stroke? There was blood on her cleavage, already dry on her low top. Lisa's blood was on her skin, and in Ben's veins.

Deanna spat a mouthful of paste out, and washed the sink clean. She reached blindly for the edge of a towel, dipping it in the cold water. The damp towel was cold against her skin as she cleaned the splatter away, cleansed her body as her dirty soul wept. She forced herself to watch as bits of Lisa disappeared from her skin, and dipped the towel down between her breasts, resting over her suddenly aching heart.

Aching heart, dirty soul wept. A sudden wave of self-disgust hit her as she ripped the towel from her cleavage. Deanna scoffed at herself in the silent bathroom. She'd never been a chick in anything but biology until Mary; the Deanna Winchester she'd been years ago wouldn't have spent so much time pouring her fucking heart out to Cas' voicemail, she'd have called once, been blunt and sarcastic, and told him to go fuck himself when there was no response. She'd have been more _there _with Lisa.

Deanna Winchester sure as hell didn't moon over a dude like some dumb WWII broad tricked into giving it all away by some cheesy pickup line.

Deanna snapped out of it, and called Ben into the bathroom. The bathroom sink was larger, so they scrubbed it quickly (never trust a motel to be clean enough for an adult, let alone a newborn) and got Mary washed, dried, and ready for bed. Deanna tucked Mary into the cot, and, under her watchful eye, the newborn was asleep within seconds, safe and warm.

She kissed her daughter goodnight, and moved out of the way so Ben could do the same. She turned the lights off, and slipped into bed, kicking the covers off for Ben.

With only a second of hesitation, Ben climbed in beside her, curling into her side. Deanna closed her eyes, feeling him tremble against her side until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Someone was whimpering; high and soft, warbling in despair that was horrible to hear.

A small source of warmth slipped away from her side, and padded across the floor, trying to be quiet, and succeeding rather well. The not-quiet cries softened into light coos. _Ben_, Deanna's instincts cautioned before her hand was fully under the pillow, fingers barely brushing the gun.

Deanna listened to the silence, and relaxed when she heard the small, almost silent footsteps returning, and felt Ben slip back down beside her, curling into her side. Something was laid on her stomach, something moving; Mary. Deanna reached out, and adjusted the covers accordingly, feeling Ben stiffen in surprise at her side.

Deanna moved her arm, wrapping it around him as he sank deeper into her side, cheek pressed against her breast. She laid her hand on her daughter's back, content to be Mom!Deanna right now.

"Why doesn't she sleep with you?" Ben whispered in the silence, his hand joining her on Mary's back, the protectiveness in the action matching hers.

"I might crush her," Deanna replied, cracking an eye open to peer at him.

"You don't look heavy," he mumbled, closing his eyes, turning away from her gaze.

"Thanks," she closed her eyes again, and blew out a breath, feeling the point of Ben's chin dig uncomfortably into her breast as she did so. Her lone wolf urges itched and railed against the physical contact, longing for some breathing space, but she smacked it down, putting her pride aside.

Ben's hand left Mary's back long enough to feel her strong stomach muscles, returning shortly afterwards. "You feel hard," he whispered, something small and broken in his voice."Mom was always soft, but you're hard."

Deanna rubbed his back, the comforting movements coming out sloppy, because really when was the last time she'd done something like this? Frickin' years: when Sammy was still rocking the bowl cut, and she'd been just a girl.

"Get some sleep," she said as Ben's light grip turned into a desperate cling."We're right here." She moved her hand from his back to his hair, patting absently.

Patting until Ben was asleep, and her hand went limp, curling in the ten year olds' hair. Deanna forced herself not to pull away now that he was asleep. It'd been a while since she'd slept alone, between Cas and Lisa, but she still got flashes of claustrophobia if someone tried to cling too tight, and Ben _was_ clinging too tight.

She just needed some breathing space. Deanna wanted to get out of the motel room with it's irritatingly familiar blandness, but she couldn't-no, scratch that, _wouldn't_- leave Mary and Ben alone. Besides it wasn't too smart walking around the night after a demon attack, and Deanna liked to think she'd gotten a little smarter over the last few months.

Smart enough to resist the reckless urge to pick a fight with someone much bigger then her, so that she didn't have to hold back _as much_. Or find some guy, and fuck Lisa out of her system, and hate herself so fucking much in the morning.

Deanna glanced down at the silent baby on her torso, and at the grieving boy clutching onto her because, honestly, who else did he have? She hated herself enough as it was, thinking of fucking that boy's mom off her body. Lisa deserved a better girlfriend, and the kids deserved something better too.

Feeling like a selfish ass, Deanna slipped out of Ben's grip, and gently laid Mary on his stomach. The boy hugged the infant to his chest, frowning slightly in his sleep. Deanna watched them for a moment, before standing, and walking into the bathroom. As the door closed, and the air shimmered with a powerful presence, Deanna didn't think, slamming her lips against Gabriel's without an ounce of common sense.

He kissed back, mouth opening up under hers, hands encircling her waist in a way that was more instinctive then lustful. Gabriel rocked back into her viciously, slamming her ass into the sink. She arched back into him, wrapping a leg around his waist, pressing her heel into the back of his thigh, pushing him into where she wanted him most. He groaned against her mouth, hand skating up from her hips to her breasts, cupping her through the thin shirt she wore.

Deanna gasped, and wrapped the other leg around him. Gabriel hoisted her up with one hand gripping her thigh, yanking that leg out from under her, and she clutched his waist with both of her legs. He moved her from the sink, and slammed her roughly against the wall. The jolt broke the kiss, and they were left gasping, inches from each others mouths, while he rutted against her greedily.

The friction was wonderful, and he was hard enough that she could feel him through his jeans and her shorts. Gabriel bent his head, and began kissing down her neck. His hand left her breast, and she hissed in complaint, which was quickly turned into a moan when he skipped a few steps, and kissed her hard nipple through the tank.

His hand left her breast, and touched her left shoulder; right on the Cas' handprint, and-it was wrong, and, shit, this was _Gabriel_, her kids were in the next room, what the fuck was she doing? And, eww, Gabriel? Even Lisa hadn't been able to touch the scar. She'd always made up some bullshit about it still being pretty painful.

She jerked backwards, pulling herself away from him, and into the wall with a grimace. It was like a bucket of icy water, like waking up in bed with your forty year old teacher, and Deanna was _not_ talking from experience. She hoped. Her mid-teens were fuzzy.

"Little brother made damn sure to leave his mark on you," Gabriel straightened, annoying smirk on his face. He let her go, and her feet hit the floor. She pushed past him, and bent over the sink.

"I think I'm actually going to throw up," she glared at his smug reflection, hair hanging around her face.

"Does it burn sometimes?" Gabriel gestured to her shoulder gloatingly. She shuddered as he stepped closer. It was going to be a while before she could look at him without wanting to stab herself in the eye, and even longer (perhaps never) when she stopped wanting to stab him in the eye.

She'd tried it before when shooting him got old, and it only annoyed him.

"Sometimes," she admitted, grabbing her toothbrush, squeezing some toothpaste on it, and scrubbing the sickly sweet taste of him from her mouth. She glanced at him over her shoulder, and winced. "I'm not going to talk to you while you have a boner."

Gabriel's smirk widened ridiculously. "You sure you don't want to take care of it for me? You were so eager before," as Deanna gagged, and angrily spat out a mouthful of toothpaste, he let out a low whistle. "Never has toothpaste been so attractive."

Deanna twisted the tap on, and rinsed her mouth quickly. The same thought had occurred to her when she'd grabbed the toothbrush, but she'd risked it. She swished a mouthful of water around her mouth, bending to spit it out, and when she'd straightened up, Gabriel was gone.

Over the last month, she'd begun to tolerate him, but she was always glad to see him leave, and tonight was no exception. She'd crossed a line, and he wasn't the type of person to let that go. Deanna dropped her toothbrush on the side, and splashed cold water over her face before twisting the tap off.

The air shifted subtly, and a pair of tacky, pink bunny slippers stepped into her line of sight moment later.

"We're never going to talk about it," Deanna said forcefully, and continued to rub at her wet hair. She'd needed a shower to burn the sleaze off of her, and there was no better time to wonder if her taste in men had changed from 'human' to 'supernatural' before or after Alistair ripped her thighs open with meat hooks, and tried to figure out what made her scream louder; his knife or his dick.

Still, hell could've been a lot worse. Alistair was a possessive bastard, so there weren't herds of demons sniffing around her. Well, not _that_ part of her. Everything else was free gain. Yeah, Deanna knew it could've been a helluva lot worse, but that didn't mean the thought Alistair having any effect on her didn't make her want to kill something.

Seriously, violent impulses, nightmares and in-depth knowledge of torture hardcore enough to make Chuck Norris bawl like a little girl wasn't enough?

Logically, Deanna knew that whatever she felt for Cas had been all on her, and not some disturbing attraction to powerful creatures- were angels even creatures?- developed from her time in hell, but when had she ever gone easy on herself by being _logical_? And yes, she was only thinking about Cas, because Gabriel just didn't bring those kind of feelings out of her. Murderous rage? God, yes. Lust? _Fuck_, no.

"That's almost a smart idea, Dee-Dee," Gabriel agreed easily. She stopped toweling her hair, and stared at him. "What?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were cuttin' me some slack," she said with a blunt suspicion. Deanna cursed herself for not thinking to hide any weapons in the bathroom.

"I hate awkward conversations," he admitted lightly, seemingly unbothered by her blatantly homicidal urges. He skimmed her mind sometimes- for kicks. "Love causing them, but they remind me too much of up there."

Deanna watched with raised eyebrows as the Trickster pointed up at the ceiling. "Seriously, what's goin' on with you? I'm a second away from trying to peel your face off with a silver knife."

"Again?" Gabriel cocked his head. "You used to be so much fun," he said, pulling an impressively animated expression of disappointment; eyebrows going all over the place. "You know, before your girl died. Creative attempted murder after creative attempted murd-"

She smacked him across the face with the wet towel; the impact was loud and dramatic. Deanna wished she could've punched him, instead of using such a girly method.

The bathroom fell silent as Gabriel stared at the wall, and she watched his face carefully. Deanna wasn't naive enough to assume he wasn't still a threat if she pushed him too hard. She'd done worse to him, and he'd reacted with amusement and vague annoyance; Gabriel never got quiet unless they somehow ended up on the subject of his brothers, and he'd switch back to Mindless Trickster Mode within seconds.

It didn't have anything to do with her, not anymore, and she could appreciate acting like a complete dick to get out of an awkward conversation.

"Ouch," he said finally, a hint of shock in his voice.

Deanna stared at him in disbelief. "I've shot you, I've stabbed you, and you've barely even _flinched_, but a wet towel gets an 'ouch'?" she stood up. "What the hell?"

"Surprised me, too." Gabriel said, shrugging loosely. "Which, FYI, is the only reason you aren't being abducted by 'aliens' right now."

Deanna couldn't help but grin at him. To her faint surprise, he returned it.

"You liked that one, huh?" he buffed his nails on his silk shirt. "It was some of my best work."

"I liked it more then your Dead Deanna campaign," she shook her head. "Goddamnit. If only we'd figured this out sooner, would've made fighting Lucifer a helluva lot easier. Trap him in a room full of jocks. All those towel snapping stereotypes? True."

Gabriel leered playfully at her. "Lemme guess, you know from experience?"

Deanna flashed him a dirty grin. "I was a cheerleader in one of the schools. Queen of the Bitches."

"Oooh," Gabriel gave her an interested look. "Still have the uniform?"

Yes. She did. Bobby kept it for her, barely raising an eyebrow at the clingy outfit, gruffly telling her not to let her 'Daddy' see unless she knew how to pick the lock of a chastity belt. She'd been pretty pissed at having to wear a skirt, but it'd been fun for a while.

"Maybe," she shrugged, snagging the towel out of his hands to give her hair one last rub.

"Wild," said Gabriel approvingly as she shook the crazy strands away from her face.

"Mary's asleep, and you aren't mocking me, so what do you want?"

"Can't I just hang out?" he whined, and pouted. The expression, like many of his, was overkill. Deanna noticed how effectively he was avoiding the subject. It was something important then.

"Listen, I really don't have time for this bullshit, so what do you want?" Deanna asked somewhat aggressively. She dragged a hand through her damp hair, and cocked a brow expectantly.

"Have you been feeling strange lately?" he asked cryptically.

"I pushed a kid out of me a month ago," she said, face tightening in anger. " And my girlfriend blew her brains out all over the frickin' walls barely five hours ago. So, yeah. I've been feeling a little strange lately."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Do I look like your shrink, princess? I meant physically." He paused, and gave her a considering look. "Though, between us guys, you really should look into that. PTSD, gender issues, brother issues, identity issues, inferiority complex to balance your brother's God complex. You practically raised little Sammy, didn't you? And how could I forget the daddy issues?" He tutted mockingly, shaking his head 'sorrowfully'.

"I'm gonna take a moment to bask in the irony of you telling me about my Daddy issues." His eyes flashed, and she held his stare boldly. "As for physically...I have mentioned the whole baby deal, right?"

"Been getting stronger?" he said. "Less vulnerable?"

Deanna suddenly remembered how little she'd bruised from her fight with Meg. She'd been keeping herself in shape, but...But she'd barely fought anyone since saving Ozzie's ass from several pissed boyfriends, and, sure, she'd taken care of her body, but Meg hadn't been pregnant and taking it easy for the last couple of months.

"Bingo," Gabriel murmured as he watched her changing expression, eyes flickering over her body. "You shouldn't be so hot, you know. A month after giving birth, new moms are dowdy and exhausted."

"I assumed it was a perk of having an angel's kid," she admitted warily, and looked at him. "I'm betting by the expression on your face that I was wrong."

Gabriel hummed, pulling a thoughtful expression on, and crap, it looked too weird on his face. She was too used to his playful trickster persona, to only being able to tell when something bothered him by how quick he cut to the chase, or by glimpsing a hint of the tired weight she'd seen once before when he'd been revealed as something _other_ then a sly pain in the ass oddly devoted to screwing with her and Sam.

Deanna wondered if he'd known who they could have been since the very beginning, and if that was why he'd looked at her that way when they'd first met, not entirely lustful. She knew better then to ask. Family was a sore spot; it was something they shared, another brick in their shaky truce.

"She's gonna change you, Dee-Dee. And not just soften your edges," she watched as he leaned back, peering into the dark bedroom. She moved to stand beside him, to follow his gaze to Ben and Mary's sleeping forms.

"You've been carrying part of an angel inside of you for nine months," Gabriel said, obnoxious and smirking. "Some of little brother's DNA is wrapped around yours, and, let me tell you, it ain't letting go without a fight."

Deanna raised a brow, her mouth tugging upwards into an amused but disbelieving smirk. "You saying I've got some special angel STD that's gonna give me _wings_?"

Gabriel's growing smirk interrupted her scoff. "Hmm. Grow them, no, but I wouldn't be surprised if you started to _see_ wings."

"Whoa, whoa!" Deanna jerked backwards in surprise, frantically searching his face for the lie, because suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore. In fact, it was closer to blind panic."I'm not the first one to pop out an angelic bun in the oven! I looked this-" she gestured into the dimly lit room, at her daughter's sleeping body,"- up, and _that_ didn't happen."

Deanna could see Mary's tiny hand curling into Ben's shirt, and the boy held her baby tighter, and...The rage was knocked from her sails, to be replaced with a strange _softness_ which- just, no.

Gabriel was watching too, his gaze rested on Ben briefly, and something thoughtful stirred in his face. Deanna really wasn't in the mood to figure it out, so she didn't try, instead she scowled at his face with lurking panic, and waited.

And waited, her impatience rising with every moment.

"Well?" she snapped after several moments when she spotted the smirk curling at the corners of Gabriel's mouth; the asshole.

"The others," Gabriel said slowly, dragging the moment out with a certain flourish that could make any game show host weep with envy. "Weren't dragged out of hell by their baby daddy."

Deanna's anger was waned with amusement at hearing Cas referred to as _that_. She leaned away, and clutched the sink to keep herself from doing _something_, like lunging or screamed, or _swooning_ like a dumbass.

"Shit," she sighed, angling her head back to glare at the ceiling. Sam got the demon blood, an addiction and some neat tricks. She got angel sperm, a baby, and some unknown DNA alteration. Oh, and months of awesome sex, but that was over.

Gabriel snorted at her, and, yeah, she should really give more of a shit that he read her mind so easily. "You have bigger fish to fry, princess." Deanna thought about punching him in the dick, and he smirked at her daringly.

She weighed the pros and cons briefly, before deciding that was more of a Sam thing, and remembered that she didn't give a crap, so let her fist fly.

"Was that really worth it, Dee-Dee?" he asked as she jerked her fist backwards, cursing at the pain.

"Well," she grunted, rubbing her aching knuckles, her teeth gritted to trap any stray noises of pain. "It made me feel better," she glanced at him. "What do you mean by bigger fish to fry? And cut the crap," she said, tossing a pointed look at the doorway. "This involves her, too."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. It was a low blow, and they both knew it. Deanna felt shitty including Mary in this, but it was time to be realistic; Mary would be involved in this, more then either of them wanted her to be. She wasn't going to turn into her dad, but she and Sammy always seemed to end up that way whenever they lost someone.

Christ knows what would have happened if she hadn't been knocked up. She'd either go nuts and start trying to tear Lucifer free so she could kill the son of a bitch properly, or end up playing _golf_, trying way too hard to be normal.

"You've got a new big bad, Buffy," Gabriel said. "A certain demon called Crowley heard about the kid, and he's curious."

Deanna went tense. Crowley was a splinter compared to Lucifer, but he was still a pretty powerful demon gunning for her kid. Shit. It was like Sam 2.0. Only Mary _probably_ wasn't a vessel. "Are we talking uncomfortable questions curious, or ET captured by crazy scientists curious?"

Gabriel looked at her, his easy smile tucked away in favour of a grim, unusual expression. "Crowley's taken up my brother's crown."

"Son of a bitch," Deanna cursed.

Gabriel's grin was strangely hollow as he said, "It's time for round two, baby."

* * *

**Now, I have fanart, made by the lovely SealedSecrets.**

**Check it out,** **http : / exhibit9 (.) deviantart (.) com/art/ Should-I -call-You-Mom-204781536**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

**I was so tempted to split this chapter in half, because of the size, but I promised some Cas, and...consider it an apology for taking so bloody long. **

* * *

A wave of weariness hit Deanna as Gabriel's words circled around her head. There was an edge of looming dread, which probably wouldn't hit her until tomorrow, but, yeah, mostly she was tired. And vaguely pissed off, because last year-_last_ year, goddamnit- was supposed to be the end of it all.

Deanna was supposed to have this apple-pie life with Lisa and Ben- and, later, Mary. Lisa's brains weren't supposed to be cleaned off some wall dented by a bullet, Ben wasn't supposed to be crying, and her baby wasn't supposed to be hunted by some fucked up demon with an irritating British accent before...before _everything_. Only a month old, and her daughter was already in danger.

Her instincts raged with a _fierce_ protectiveness, and her mind snapped together, bunching up tightly, wound together with coils of rage, and memories of violence. Over her dead and rotting corpse was anyone touching her daughter, and even then she'd rip her way back outta hell before letting Crowley within the same _state_ as Mary.

If he was really stupid enough to try, and really Deanna expected something better of the only demon smart enough to figure out that Lucifer was a _freakin'_ nutjob and not some caring, _fatherly _guy big on the demon's, then she'd kill him- and if it was anything a Winchester was good at besidesscrewing themselves over, it was killing demons.

"Are you with me on this?" she gripped the sink with white knuckles, feeling the flesh on her back stretch as her shoulder blades pressed against it as she tried to keep her inner fire out of her voice: she was gonna need that for later.

Gabriel's eyes strayed back into the darkened room, strange amber eyes flickering. The look on his face made her think of the church paintings she'd seen over the years, and that should have made more sense then it did.

"Two Winchesters, and an angel," he said, and she took it as an agreement. "Just like old times," he added with an obnoxious grin stretching across his face.

"Three."

Gabriel's grin froze in surprise, and fell into his Trickster look of surprise, all eyebrows and mouth. He was in this for Mary, and so was she, but Deanna refused to play favourites; he was going to deal with Ben, too.

Deanna was the least parental person she'd ever met- and she was including her dad- but she seemed to have picked up a few tricks from Lisa, because she'd always been all about Sam and the hunt. Saving people's lives, but never sticking around to pick up the pieces, and that was what a mom did, right? Picked up the pieces, and just generally gave a damn about things.

In her world, much was about violence or sex (never comfort) because that made you weak, and being weak got you killed pretty damn quick. Hunters- ex or otherwise- weren't supposed to be parents; it'd been proven time and time again, but she'd really thought, just for a little while, that maybe things would work out. Shoulda known better, really.

Maybe she wasn't cut out for this... but her protective instincts were going nuts. She'd shoved her pride aside, and _cuddled_, goddamnit. That had to count for something. It just had to, because otherwise...otherwise _maybe_ Mary would be better off with a group of strangers.

Sammy grew up hating their dad for the hell he put them both through, and Deanna was smart enough to admit she had been raised as a mindless puppet, drunk on her dad's obsessive need for revenge. Deanna couldn't do that to Ben and Mary, even if it meant losing them.

"Three," Gabriel said pointedly, jolting her out of her thoughts. Deanna wondered if he'd been peaking in again. His eyebrows rose at her, and, oh yeah, he had.

Deanna cast her mind back to Crowley. She was determined and angry, but that wasn't going to kill Crowley. He was a cunning son of a bitch, so she would have to be. Gabriel was undoubtedly better then Crowley, but it would be stupid to rely on him completely, and Deanna wasn't that type of woman _anyway._

Sure, maybe, Deanna could've handled the whole thing herself, but she was trying really hard not to be stupid. She couldn't afford to fuck around with her kid's life because of her ego. If it'd been some other demon, sure, but not Crowley. Even before his promotion to King of Hell, she wouldn't have been too eager to have him on their tail.

Gabriel smiled; a long, slow stretch of the mouth."Crowley's not going to get his sticky fingers anywhere near your girl, Dee-Dee." Gabriel snapped his fingers, and she found herself holding a fizzy, pink cocktail, a pang of unease rippling through her chest at his casual display of power.

"He isn't my brother, and you can take demons. Think a few grades lower then Azazel," he sipped his drink, smacking his lips, and wow, she should really introduce him to whiskey sometime.

Drinking alone sucked, but hadn't she already decided that getting drunk around a trickster was a_**bad**_idea? Well, it wasn't like she'd been seriously considering getting juiced with two kids and a bunch of demons on their tail.

"Azazel?" she checked, hoping she'd heard that wrong. The name was still capable of sending a chill up her spine, and igniting a spark of fury in her chest. Azazel had been able to send her cold-blooded dad into a tailspin of mindless fury and unpredictable madness.

He'd been playing around with their lives since before they were even born, so understandably he was a soft spot for her family. Was, or rather, had been. She was the only one left, now.

"Yep," he said flippantly, and Deanna remembered that Gabriel was a jerk.

"Awesome," she grimaced at him, and at the drink in her hand. The reference to Azazel made her think of her situation growing up, and her situation now. "Am I the only one getting a strong sense of deja vu here?"

"Nope." Gabriel shook his head slightly, eyes rolling as he added, "All the more reason for you to stay on your toes. I love the kid, but there's no way I could cart her around with me. Moping up baby spit really kills the sex vibe."

Deanna poured the pink cocktail down the drain like it was toxic waste, and considering Gabriel's _sense of humor_, it could have been. "I'd never leave Mary to you," she refused to even go near the laundry list of reasons why. "If I screw the pooch, Bobby can have the kids."

And wouldn't that be a nice surprise for him?

Gabriel's mouth opened, and Deanna raised a hand to stall him. "We basted Lisa's house in protections against almost every single thing either of us has ever faced. Whoever messed it up had to be human. Unless it was an angel, and I'm guessing that would send ripples."

"I wouldn't put it past any of Raphael's bitches to work with Crowley if it pissed Castiel off, but I dropped by your old place, and I couldn't sense another angel's handiwork."

"Whoa, wait, what?" Deanna head snapped up, as her mind latched onto the name. "Raphael? The ninja angel?"

Gabriel's response was muffled as he pulled a candy bar out of his pockets and bit into it, but Deanna detected a nod somewhere in there. And, strangely enough, a hint of nervousness?

"Huh," she said, and her mind refused to let it go. He'd threatened to hurt Cas, hadn't he? Gabriel looked nervous, so _had_ he? Her stomach twisted in horror at the thought. She scanned Gabriel's face, searching for _something_. There was nothing genuine on his face; the hint of nervousness had been stashed away somewhere.

Gabriel was a dick, but he would have said something. There would have been some kind of _sign_. Family could bring the trickster's facade down; he was there for Mary. Deanna shoved her feelings away, and tried to ignore the panic weighing on her chest, demanding answers.

"Guess he's not Cas' little bitch anymore," she finished.

Gabriel's face settled into a wide smirk. "I think you've been a wonderful influence on the little one."

Little one?

Deanna shot him a disturbed look. "Okay," she held a hand up, and made a pushing away motion, as if hoping to push that thought away. "That's kinda creepy."

"Compared to me, he is."

"Yeah, and compared to Bobby, so am I." Deanna lifted her other hand off of the sink, and rubbed her face wearily, before meeting Gabriel's eyes, shoulders slumping slightly. "Nice subject change, by the way."

"Oh, _puh-lease_," Gabriel scoffed at her, and gestured to himself, "if I wanted to change the subject, you wouldn't have caught it."

Deanna leaned forward slightly to catch his attention. "I've been the only goddamn thing keeping my dad and my brother from tearing each other's heads off since I was a kid," as his eyes grew strangely solemn, she relaxed, and leaned back, as if she'd never been serious; never gotten to him, and made him look like an actual angel. "I'm pretty good, too."

So, yeah. Her background read a helluva lot like Michael's, down to locking the willful little brother in a cage/panic room, but it wasn't as far from Gabriel's as she'd like, and considering what she needed to do today, she wanted him to remember that.

Trying to con the Trickster, she'd done more hopeless things- a certain apocalypse came to mind, and they'd won, with terrible costs, but _they'd_ won, and that _mattered_.

Why was she trying to convince herself? She lost Sam, but millions of people were still alive, and...Deanna couldn't say it was worth it-because to some part of her, it wasn't- but it'd been the right thing to do.

"Speaking of family," Deanna started, moving past him into the darkened room. It was getting early. She turned when she was near the window, and looked at Gabriel, who was leaning against the doorway, watching her. "Wanna spend some time with Mary?"

* * *

As Deanna turned right at a light, she tried to remember that Ben and Mary were safe with Gabriel. Well, safe _from _demons and angels as long as Michael and Lucifer didn't climb back out of hell. If they did, Gabriel could get Mary and Ben the hell out of dodge, and she could start looking for a way to bust the cage open and free her brothers without the devil and a pissed off archangel coming to play.

When had she started to trust Gabriel so much, anyway? Deanna drummed her fingers absently on her baby's steering wheel as she thought. He was a colossal dick who'd killed her over a thousand times, but he was baby-sitting for her because she tossed out the word family once.

Holy crap, her life was _insane_.

Her dad would have been rising out of his grave to kick her ass if they hadn't burned his body, fearing exactly that. Still, Deanna didn't feel particularly concerned as she burned rubber through the streets to the music store.

The windows were down, and her hair was being ruffled by the wind, and for the first time since Lisa, Deanna was feeling like her old self again: alone and dangerous.

It was a great feeling, but she was feeling pretty anxious to get back to Ben and Mary. She trusted Gabriel to look after them, but she wasn't naive enough to assume his bizarre affection for Mary stretched to Ben too, and there were just shit grieving kids shouldn't have to deal with; like an insane sugar addicted Trickster with a dusty degree in Archangel.

Gabriel ranked pretty freakin' high on the bastard-o-meter she'd developed over the years, and Ben could be bizarrely like her at times, so there was the strong possibility of a nasty end.

Deanna parked her car close to the store, locked the Impala, and walked inside. Ozzie was at the counter, and the radio was playing as people browsed. Deanna moved out of the doorway, and took stock of her surroundings. It wasn't the first time she'd searched for threats in this place, but it was the first time she'd seriously considered icing one of her friends.

Like always, there were few people browsing through the store. Most of them were regulars. The store only sold decent music: none of that squeaky boyband crap Sammy used to love as a snot nosed brat. Ben liked listening to her tapes, and Lisa had always been more into the music she'd used in her yoga classes, and they'd always hated that.

Her gaze swept over the store twice until she was satisfied, and her legs carried her stealthy to Ozzie. She put her elbow on the counter, and ducked to catch his gaze. "I need to talk to you."

Ozzie looked up, and his eyes went round. "Brace yourself," he said, and hurried around the counter to fold her in a brief, but tight hug.

Deanna's hands rose, and settled briefly on his ribcage. She didn't feel particularly aggressive towards Ozzie, or even Brian, but the hug still made her uncomfortable- more then usual. She suspected them, and her instincts raged all over the place about letting someone she didn't entirely trust so close to her.

Ozzie was taller then her, so his stubble rasped against her smooth cheek when he shifted to pull away. His hands fell back to his sides, and there was concern in his eyes. "I, uh, heard about Lisa, Dean." Ozzie winced at his own words. "Shit, I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Deanna breathed in deeply, sensing the sincerity in his concern. There'd been a police report on the news; she'd only just turned the TV off in time. She shrugged tensely. "I'm worried about Ben. He was pretty quiet for a while."

Ozzie closed his eyes with a grimace. "He was there, too?" he didn't need to see her nod. "God. Poor kid."

"Yeah," she agreed vaguely. Ben was still talking, and he'd helped her with Mary, but he'd been...very quiet and sad as he followed her around. He hadn't finished his pancakes. Gabriel had managed to drag a few words out of him, and Ben had been comfortable around him before Deanna left.

Ozzie opened his eyes. "You need a place to stay?" he offered.

"No," she shook her head abruptly. "We're fine. I think we all just need time away from things," she added as it looked like he was about to protest.

With worry furrowing his brow, Ozzie nodded reluctantly.

Deanna flashed him a brief smile. "I'd probably lose the kid in your mancave, anyway."

Ozzie cracked a smile, reaching across to squeeze her shoulder briefly. She hated how people acted around the grieving; it was just bullshit, so much bullshit. It set her teeth on edge. "You know where I am, anyway," he offered briefly, before curling an arm around her shoulders like he usually did.

If anyone in her new life could possibly understand her fucked up grieving progress, it would be Ozzie. They were alike, so Deanna had a feeling he wouldn't push it too far. Brian was a different matter.

Deanna felt a brief moment of irony, as she realised _exactly_ who her friends reminded her of; Ozzie was a more carefree, male version of her, and Brian was Sam in his more naive, shy teen years. Which was completely fucked up, but what wasn't anymore?

It explained some things, too. Deanna was a hunter, and she was paranoid even for that, yet she trusted them so quickly? It was worse then she'd thought; she wasn't rusty, she was getting _sentimental_ in her old age, goddamnit.

"We're leaving town," Deanna said bluntly, feeling Ozzie flinch in shock at her side.

"...I suppose that makes sense," he said somewhat weakly. His hand squeezed her shoulder tightly. They walked into the backroom, where Brian was sitting with his books. Something in Deanna's gut twisted bitterly at the sight. He looked up when they came in, and his eyes settled on her; his face became concerned, and he rose to his feet uncertainly.

"Dean's leaving town," Ozzie explained, sitting down with her. He kept his arm around her, loose and..._comforting_. It would be so easy to shrug off, but Deanna remembered eight months of banter and flirting, and let it lie.

It did nothing for her, but it seemed to comfort Ozzie.

Brian's eyes went wide with surprise, and his mouth worked silently for a few moments. searching for the right words. "When?" he asked finally.

"Soon as I can," she replied absently with a shrug, running her fingers through her hair. Her eyes slipped downwards, and she scanned what she could see of Brian's books, searching for any other symbols. She couldn't see any. The books were normal for a college student from what she'd found at Sam's college digs.

"Where are you going?" Brian asked carefully.

"Not sure yet," Deanna said vaguely. "_Christo,_ maybe?"

It wasn't exactly her smoothest move, but if she was wrong, she might actually want to see them some time in the future. Deanna couldn't start hurling random Latin words at them, unless she wanted to deal with the added social awkwardness, and suspected insanity.

Brian's eyes remained the same, and a quick glance revealed that Ozzie was as normal as he would ever be. Huh. Deanna felt herself relax slightly. It'd been a while since she doubted her instincts. Since she'd had to. There was nothing quite like that smug glow of satisfaction of being right.

Until it was tempered by paranoia, and it usually was.

"Where is...Christo?" Brian asked, as she stood up, and made for the cooler. Oh yeah, the music store was the coolest place to work. Beer, music, and hot chicks, as Ozzie often gloated. Hell, she'd gloated until she'd been distracted by the whole pregnancy deal.

"Small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere," Deanna answered, snagging three beers. Ozzie took one from her, and she slid Brian his from across the table.

Together, they twisted the caps off, and sipped at roughly the same time. The beer was from hers, left over from yesterday, and tainted with holy water. Growing up with Bobby as a second father figure left her some hard-to-kick habits.

"So where are the kids?" Brian asked when her beer touched the table, a certain tenderness in his voice she was already tired of hearing.

"Motel. I've got someone watching over them," she resisted the urge to chug the rest of her beer. Beer was not to be chugged, it was to be drunk and savoured. Same went for Whiskey."I needed to grab some stuff from the house."

"Want us to come with you?" Ozzie said casually.

"Nah," Deanna shook her head. "I can handle it myself, plus I've got some other shit I need to sort out today."

"We wouldn't mind," Brian said compassionately.

Deanna rolled her eyes at him. Honestly, she was none to eager to go back to Lisa's, but she didn't want someone to hold her hand. She wanted a frickin' re-do. Ignoring her personal rules, Deanna downed the rest of the bottle.

"I'm fine," she said, and stood up again. She saw Brian's eyebrow rise at her abruptness, and his concern increased. Ozzie stood with her, tucking his hands in his pockets, but she saw a small twitch in her direction, as if he was smothering the impulse to touch her.

He'd never done that before. If Ozzie wanted to touch, he would- and the threat of a broken arm wouldn't stop him.

"Are you leaving, now?" Brain's mouth came down in an almost pouty frown. "You just got here," he added at her shrug.

"Things to do," she said vaguely, and started to go. Ozzie caught up with her when she was half way to the exit. His fingers curled around her shoulder, and Deanna could barely stop herself from turning, and introducing his kidney's to her fist.

"We're going to miss you," he said, and pulled her closer to him. Deanna turned, and flashed him a devil-may-care grin.

"You have my number," she said.

Ozzie's eyebrows rose, and he looked strangely serious. "And that's it?" he asked. "We've been friends for months, and you're leaving it up to phone calls?" Ozzie searched her face. "And, honestly, I have this awful feeling you won't pick up."

There were dozens of things she could've said; dozens of lies and excuses. She'd been leaving all of her life, whether it was one night stands, states, or body counts, this shouldn't matter. Only it did, because she hadn't settled down like this since her mom died, and...while it wasn't home, not without Sammy, it was pretty close.

"You're smarter then you look," Deanna said finally.

"Yeah," Ozzie nodded."I thought so," he glanced behind him, where Brian stood, hovering uncertainly in the doorway. "Look, I know you don't want me to go with you to the house, but I'd still like to be involved here, Dean." Ozzie paused, taking in her wavering temper, and sprung the last trap. "We'd like to say goodbye to the kids _before_ you skip town."

Ozzie always knew exactly how far he could go with her, and he was a master at guilt trips. She'd seen how much Brian and Ozzie loved Ben and Mary, and she was really trying not to have 'complete bitch' carved on her grave.

"Son of a bitch," Deanna groaned quietly, and there was a flash of a smile on Ozzie's face. She looked around the store, where several rock-junkies were trying not to stare too blatantly at their little show. "You're busy."

"I can man the shop," Brian offered from behind Ozzie, flashing her an awkward grin when she glanced at him.

Deanna remembered how much she liked him, how his soul was still intact, and his inhuman disdain for coffee, all those little things that made him. Her lips quirked upwards, and she shrugged in an 'if you must' way.

"Well," she looked at Ozzie. "If it makes you stop whining like a bitch, sure. You can tag along."

Ozzie bowed his head dramatically."Thank you, mistress."

Deanna snorted, and shook her head in amusement. She shoved a hand in her pocket, dragging out her keys as they left the store in Brian's capable hands- hell, the store was safer that way.

"You can kiss my feet later," Deanna twirled the keys around her finger absently.

"I'd rather kiss something else," there was a flash of concern in his eyes as he said this, and a nervous edge to his leer.

Deanna smirked, and it felt strange. Lisa hovered at the back of her mind, pushed to the back with years of practice. It was an all round shitty thing to do, and, oh yeah, _dishonourable_ too, because Lisa was...

Lisa had been amazing enough to smack Meg down long enough to buy her some time. And that was something Sam hadn't been able to do. At least, not for his own sister.

"Like my ass?" Deanna taunted back with a level of shallow jerkiness she could retain on her death bed. Had done so before, in fact. That one time she'd actually died in a bed; shot in the chest, barely clinging to her sanity as her brother's blood stained the shitty motel sheets.

If she was making like her dad, she should really track Roy and Walt down sometime, and introduce them to the steel toe of her boots.

Ozzie made a point to stare at her ass for a moment, the corners of his mouth turning up. Deanna considered it a win, as she got into her car. Ozzie climbed into the other seat, and she geared her baby up.

The radio jumped to life, and 'Bad Moon Rising' blared from the speakers. Without looking, Deanna reached forward to change the song, only for her fingers to bump into the back of Ozzie's palm. Her gaze latched on him as the song changed, and his hand was drawn back in.

They worked in a music store, they had the same taste; the crash came up. Once. It had only taken a few words, and the song had never been played in the store again.

Deanna's hands clamped down on her baby's wheel, and she picked up the bantering tone of conversation to smother the awkward silence. With every mile, and every barb, a small knot of anxiety coiled in Deanna's stomach.

She parked her car outside her house, and climbed out onto the sidewalk. Ozzie came around her car as she locked it, and stood beside her. The house looked exactly the same, if you could ignore the yellow police tape, and trampled grass in the shape of a dozen footsteps.

"It looks cut off," Ozzie said after a few moments, staring at the tape.

"Okay. So we'll go round the back," Deanna responded, and ducked under the tape. Ozzie trailed after her awkwardly, hands in his pockets, with eyes uncertain. "Problem?" she asked, flashing him a carefree grin.

'Carefree' came out 'strained' if Ozzie's face was anything to go by; she needed to practice.

"Why're we here?" Ozzie asked. Deanna knew it wasn't breaking the law that he was afraid of; it was what happened here. He was terrified of seeing his friend's blood staining the walls, and ruining all of his good memories of the place.

Deanna wasn't thinking of it; of how Lisa's body fell limply to the floor, of the wet splash of blood on her face and chest, of Ben's scream and silence. Deanna pushed it out of her mind, and tried to see through a purely professional viewpoint.

Deanna knew she didn't have a snowball's chance of being professional, but she was good at pretending. Fake it 'til you make it.

"I'm not sure," she hesitated briefly, staring at the front door. She'd kicked it in for dramatic effect, and thought about making it up to Lisa; so confident that she'd have the chance.

Ozzie's hand landed on her shoulder, and she didn't look at him; if she saw pity in his eyes, she wasn't sure she'd be able to control herself.

Deanna shrugged his hand off, and moved aimlessly around the house, working on her usual swagger and bravado.

"Dean," Ozzie called, and she looked over her shoulder at him. He was standing in the same spot, uncertainly.

"Hey," she called back. "You can stay there if you want too, buddy."

It would be easier to look around on her own, anyway. Why the hell did she invite Ozzie along? Oh, yeah. Emotional blackmail. The more important question was, when did she become emotional enough to be blackmailed like that? Deanna unlocked the backgate, and went into the garden, crossing the grass, and coming to a stop near the back door.

Deanna remembered sitting outside with Ozzie and Brian, Mary sleeping in her arms, while Lisa worked and Ben was at school. There were four chairs on the small patio, and several flowerpots. Deanna reached out, and curled her fingers in the soil, letting the dirt fall back into the pot, slipping through her fingers.

She'd helped plant some of the flowers, and she'd dug the flowerbeds. It was easier than re-digging a grave, but it'd made her remember. Ben decided to help her when Lisa got sick of it, and they'd bitched at eachother while Lisa laughed at them, and offered to complete the stereotype by making lemonade.

Something settled in Deanna's stomach, and as she watched the grains of earth slip through her fingers, she remembered the saying.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," Deanna spoke quietly.

Deanna's hand abruptly released the handful of dirt, and she rose to her feet, briskly shaking most of the dirt from her hand. Someone was coming, her ears warned. Deanna turned as the gate was opened, and Ozzie stepped into the garden.

Her lips tugged upwards, as did an eyebrow. Ozzie shrugged at her expression, and moved to her side, cheerfully slinging an arm around her shoulders. Due to the way she was standing, his foot bumped into a flowerpot in an effort not to knock into her.

The flowerpot moved a little to the side, and the stone was revealed; the bare stone. It was as if Deanna hadn't spent hours drawing as many protections as she knew with Gabriel's helpful but obnoxious comments and chewing as background noise. Her theory had been confirmed; that was how Meg had gotten in.

Years of practice kept her smiling, as she and Ozzie looked at the flower pot.

"Oops," he said sheepishly.

Deanna worked to make her shrug unconcerned.

"It's just a flowerpot."

* * *

Deanna dropped Ozzie off at the music store, and drove back to the motel. As she parked the Impala, she turned her findings over in her mind. All of the protections were broken, and Brian was in the clear. Deanna was pleased about the latter, and pissed about the former. It opened a whole new can of hopeless, and turned the quiet urge for revenge in a screaming rage.

Deanna was content to deal with Crowley when he tried something, but she wanted whoever screwed with her safety net _now_.

Her jaw clenched as she climbed out of the car, and _almost_ slammed her baby's door shut. Deanna trailed a hand across her car in silent apology as she walked by; her car was smooth and steady under her fingers, and it was an unexpected comfort. She'd spent most of her life in her car; as a child, curled protectively with her baby brother while their dad drove, glancing back at them in the rear view mirror, she'd seen the Impala as her home.

Hell, she still did.

Deanna's long legs carried her through the motel until she was standing in front of the room, fishing the keys out of her coat pocket. It would've been easier to carry a bag; easier to lose, considering the lifestyle. Her wallet was stashed in her pocket, and she'd never lost a set of keys before.

"Hey," someone called, and Deanna's head automatically turned. A kid around Brian's age with blond hair and an aggressive expression jogged up to her. She gave him a look of clear disinterest as he approached. He was bulky enough to be a jock, and clearly confident in his own skin.

A quick blow to the jaw could send him to the floor. He didn't move like an experienced fighter; he moved like a cocky kid, naively unafraid, as if she couldn't ruin his life with a few well-placed punches. He was lucky she was one of the good guys.

"Your kid smashed my window in," he said, words heavy with anger as he glowered at the locked door.

Deanna's eyebrow rose in surprise, not having expected that. Ben was a mouthy, troublemaker, but not the type to get _caught_ smash windows. "Uh, what?"

"_Your_ kid-Ben- threw a brick through my window!"

"How the hell do you know Ben?" Deanna demanded aggressively.

The kid turned his glare on her. "We live in the same neighbourhood."

Deanna remembered the group of college boys who'd only just moved in, and she remembered asking Lisa to help her wash her car because she caught them staring. Because she caught them _staring_. It could be perfectly innocent, as innocent as a bunch of leering teenagers could be, but when was it _ever _with demons around?

"We do?" she said, casually reaching inside her jacket, and drawing her flask of holy water out of it. "Well, you know how hard it is to keep track of kids," she twisted the top off, and continued in a slightly offensive tone of voice. "One minute, they're making eyes at you, and the next, they're lurking on your lawn with a bucket of water."

Alarm filled the demon's face, and it took a startled step back, starting to turn as her flicked her wrist, and holy water hit the demon's face.

As she expected, the kid recoiled with a pained shriek, smoke rising from it's skin, eyes flashing an inky black. Deanna drew her fist back, and slammed it brutally into the demon's stomach. As the demon doubled over, groaning in pain, Deanna reached out, and ripped the motel door open. She kicked the salt line, grabbed the demon, and hurled it inside and into the devil's trap.

She caught the wide eyed expression on Ben's face as she slammed the motel door shut with a thump. Mary began cooing in discomfort from Gabriel's arms. Gabriel looked at the demon's trapped, crumpled form with a raised eyebrow, and a distinctively amused air.

"You didn't say you were bringing company," he said cheerily.

"Well, when a demon jumps you, what're you gonna do?" she asked in a purposely light tone.

"Demon," Ben repeated evenly, and Deanna glanced at him in a flash of concern. He was staring at the demon with an unreadable expression on his face, standing close to Gabriel- hovering, really.

"I'm sure we can come up with a few things," Gabriel said, shifting Mary in his arms. In a flash of kindness, he passed the infant to Ben.

Ben twitched in surprise, and he looked away from the demon, and down at Mary, hugging her to him. He didn't look at the demon again, something dark and troubled on the little she could see of his face.

As Gabriel moved to her side, Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, head ducked and hanging. Deanna reluctantly saw another chick flick moment in their future, and turned her attention back to the demon.

It stared at her, beaten and fearful from the kid's face. It could probably sniff out the growing rage burning in her stomach, as she thought on how this pathetic, sniveling son of a bitch helped Meg get to Lisa. And it wasn't just the demon, she was pissed at. The kid- the _human_ somewhere inside of there- opened that gateway willingly, probably at the chance of getting a piece of tail.

Deanna's face was hard as she looked the demon over. She wanted Ben out of the room, but she wasn't about to kick him out, in case the demon had a buddy waiting on him. Besides if she went too far, Gabriel wasn't going to hold her back, but the thought of Ben seeing that side to her made a cold pit of dread open up in her stomach.

The kid was already damaged enough without adding the realisation of his only remaining 'parent' being a monster, barely any better then the things she used to hunt, to the list of things he learned that week.

She needed to put Ben and Mary above everything.

"I don't have a whole lot of patience," she addressed the demon.

"_Impressive_ understatement," Gabriel said, the douchebag.

Deanna didn't have time to be annoyed, so she ignored him, and knelt down, as up in the demon's face as she was gonna risk.

"So I'm going to ask you something, and if you don't answer, I'm going to shove this-" she pulled Ruby's knife out from her jacket "- through your chest so many times that you're heart's gonna look more like swish cheese then the rotten pile of dog crap it is."

The demon's throat bobbed with a nervous swallow, eyes fixed on the knife, and the dangerous glint in her hard eyes.

Deanna was good at smiling; charmingly, brightly, jokingly, and psychotically. The first she'd learned from her father, the last she'd learned from, you guessed it, _Alistair_. She took it down a couple of notches; slightly drooping eyelids, corners of mouth tugged up so the point looked sharp, and her best crazy eyes.

Everything she'd ever done with the full blown smirk on her face was...Well, to put it lightly, she'd been no slouch with the sharp objects. There weren't words to describe how bad it'd been, or how much she regretted it. Deanna was as over hell as she'd ever be, but sometimes it got to her how much it didn't _get _to her anymore, and she was ashamed, and horrified, and, yeah, weak.

But not anymore.

"You're working for Crowley?"

There was a shift of clothing behind her, and Deanna got the feeling Gabriel was pouting at the back of her head.

"Don't trust me, Deanna?" it wasn't the first time he'd ever called her Deanna-once in the backseat of her car, and once in a modified porno they'd both liked- but it was rare enough that she took notice, even if she didn't look back. "I'm hurt. Really, I am." And he just might be.

"Look, Loki. Nothing personal, but you were guessing about Crowley," she shot back, never taking her eyes off of the demon's. "I don't trust guesses anymore then I trust you."

"Low blow," he was suddenly sucking on something, and Deanna would have said something about it, using the word blow, and then sucking candy like a whore, and he would have turned the insult around on her, if the demon hadn't been shaking so hard as slowly, slowly, it nodded.

"Where is he?" a tense bark, and the southern twang she'd never bothered to hide was rougher then a lady's voice should be, but, hey, if there was anything in the world Deanna hadn't ever pretended to be, it was a lady.

"I-I-I..." sweat glistened on the kid's brow, and it licked it's lips nervously, looking down, and when Deanna was half way to being a demon, down in hell, she'd never been so human; it was a lie. "I don't know," it said, as if grasping for courage.

Deanna wanted to lean forward, and snarl, and sneer, and hit, but Ben's presence put her in an uncomfortable position- on a leash. The corners of her mouth curled up in a smile as she shifted herself, so her hair hid her face from Ben, because it really wasn't a nice expression.

"Really? 'Cause I think you do."

"I don't," the demon insisted. "But," it hurried to add, "I know where Meg is."

Deanna rocked back on her heels, surprised. "Oh, yeah," she said, glancing at Ben. "And why should I believe you?"

The demon stared at her with wide eyes. "You think I'm dumb enough to lie to _you_? People-demons-others- still talk."

"This is boring," Gabriel complained.

Deanna stilled in irritation. "Well, what did you expect? Whips and chains?"

Gabriel snorted slightly. "Now, that's something I'd like to see," he said. "But, really? The demon's a big wuss, and shoots it's mouth off? Where's the tension? Where's the _drama_?"

As much as she hated to even think it, Gabriel was right- it was too...easy. Deanna could just chalk the fear up to tricking Lucifer back into the box, but considering how the demon's seemed to view him, it should've made them mad, not scared.

"How stupid would it be to hope for a break?"

Gabriel was too busy laughing to really respond to that, and she shrugged in acknowledgement.

"Okay," she said to the demon over the Archangel's strangely girly giggles. "Spill, or I'll spill you."

"She's in town," the demon announced, as if this should be a surprise.

"Uh-huh," Deanna murmured with a sardonic expression. "Yeah. I know, but where?"

"She'll come to you," the demon whispered. "She hasn't found another body yet- none to her tastes, anyway- but she'll come to you."

Deanna rolled her shoulders backwards, and slowly rose to her feet, tucking Ruby's knife back into her waistband as she prowled across the room. Meg would come to her, huh? She looked at Ben, who was trying to calm her daughter's uncomfortable flailing, and felt a deep sense of loathing for the black eyed bitch.

It was bad enough watching her fuck with Sam, years ago, but screwing with Lisa the way she did, and driving her to blow her brains out in front of her son, turned that hatred into something else entirely.

Deanna licked her lips thoughtfully, as the demon's eyes followed her movements, and Gabriel's laughter died down. She could stab him, and send Ben into the bathroom for a moment- kinda dumb she hadn't done that before. She'd be killing the kid inside of there, too, but he wasn't exactly a saint.

But, still, human.

They weren't at war anymore- things weren't desperate enough not to think of the poor bastards locked in there.

Deanna let out a rough, angry sigh. "Do you know any exorcism rituals from memory?"

Gabriel's eyes stared at her calculatingly while his face showed blatant surprise. "You're letting the kid live?"

"Yeah," she said, dropping down onto the bed beside Ben. He shifted into her slightly, thigh pressed to hers, and she locked an arm around his shoulders as casually as possible.

"I'm a good guy, remember?" Deanna looked down at the boy under her arm, and at the quaking demon on the floor. "Although, if you wanted to be your Trickster self with him, I wouldn't be so eager too shove a stake through your chest."

"Wow," his eyebrows rose dramatically, and his grin stretched to alarming heights. "Official hunter approval. I can't _wait_ to tell all of my friends."

Deanna didn't correct him about the hunter thing- she was considering it.

* * *

Gabriel disappeared from Dee-Dee's motel room with a silent shift of air after blowing his niece a kiss goodbye. Mary was a cute kid, wide blue eyes she got from Daddy. She'd grow up hot, like her mom was. He'd kind of hated Castiel for ruining that when he'd first seen Deanna, blown up and exhausted, but with a protective gleam in her eyes that might've terrified a human. Damn near got to him- the crazy girl.

His feet touched down, and the floorboards creaked under his _delicate _weight- but only because he allowed it. His eyes landed on a form, hunched over an old typewriter, surrounded by empty bottles.

"Howdy," he drawled.

Chuck looked up from his typewriter, dark circles under his eyes as he blinked at the archangel. "I haven't seen it yet," he said.

Gabriel's eyebrows drew together. "She kissed me," he announced with a certain amount of glee as the remaining color faded from the writer's face.

"Wh-Oh," he tilted his head at him. "I suppose that'd make sense," he nodded to himself. "Deanna's always tried to distract herself with sex," he added.

Suddenly, he took proper note of Gabriel's glee, and concern drew his brows together. "You...no. You didn't?" he lurched forward, and chugged a mouthful of beer. "Ah, man," he groaned. "I do _not_ want to see that. I mean, she's hot, but-eww-"

"Relax." Gabriel sat down, lounging casually, waving a hand in the air. "I didn't sleep with her." Chuck looked at him uncertainly. "You think I'd screw my baby brother's girl with his kid in the next room?"

"Yes," Chuck said bluntly.

Gabriel considered it for a moment, and nodded to himself, admitting, "Yeah, I would have. Anyone else, but Cas is a fierce little bastard."

It wasn't that he was afraid of the kid, just...cautious, and he actually liked Castiel, and it'd been a while since he'd _liked_ one his brothers. Loved 'em, but they _were_ a bunch of dicks. He wouldn't have done that to Cas, and he got Deanna enough not to tear her a new one for her little stunt- besides, it wasn't like he hadn't thought about it, back before an outline of the kid's hand was branded into her flesh.

What? She was a hot Amazon with experience, and he was a guy with experience; things would've been interesting if Cas hadn't got there first. Ah, well. Win some, lose some.

"Gabriel!" his beloved brother bellowed, and Chuck flinched when the windows shattered into slivers of glass. "Brother!"

"What the hell did you do?" he wailed, recoiling from the broken glass.

"I reminded her of something," Gabriel grinned widely under his stare, placing his hand on his shoulder.

Chuck's eyes go wide with horror. "What? Why? Why did you _come here_?" he demanded miserably as his living room was bathed in a halo of white light. My, my. Cas really was pissed.

"Hey," Gabriel shrugged loosely, containing a wince at his brother's next shout. "I'm a Trickster, remember?"

"Cas can't know yet!" Chuck shouted, flinching away from the light.

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" Chuck howled back. "Oh, God. Why does this keep on happening to me?" he cried before suddenly going still, and falling to the floor, convulsing with a vision.

The bright light twisted, and formed into the shape of a man- Castiel's vessel. Outwardly, he appeared to be perfectly calm; the kind of calm that they gave to mental patients in a shiny needle.

Like every other angel in the heavens calm, but there was a certain stiffness to the way he was standing that gave him away, and considering how tense the kid usually was, that said something.

Yeah, he was pissed.

"Gabriel, we need to talk."

"Look, little bro," he said, holding his hands away from his body, placating. "I know you're pissed about Dee-Dee."

"Whatever gave you that impression?" Castiel asked, the very picture of stoic confusion.

Gabriel wasn't fooled. He had eons on the kid: in years and experience. He could spot jealousy from the other side of the galaxy, and Castiel didn't have enough control over his new (ish) emotions to hide it from a vaguely observant human, let alone a Trickster.

He wouldn't have pegged Castiel for the jealous type, but considering the guy never really had anything-anyone- worth holding onto, it made sense. He was practically complimenting Dee-Dee there, but Gabriel honestly thought she deserved it.

It took more then a vessel's sperm to make a half-human, half-angel baby; Mommy and Daddy had to be in love, otherwise Mary would have been the (dead) vessel's kid. And by in love, he meant a cupid's wet dream. Literally.

There was a reason he was rooting for them, and it wasn't just because he was a _tiny_ bit pissed at Lisa Braeden for suggesting an abortion the moment Dee-Dee told her about the kid.

More kudos to her for refusing, 'cause being a single mom sucked.

"The light show," said Gabriel, gesturing to the smashed windows. "You've been bumped up a few pay grades, but that would still take some effort."

His little brother stared at him, and after several long moments, his eyes dropped, and Gabriel's chest twinged uncomfortably when everything-the hurt, the pain, and wrathful jealousy- was laid clear on Castiel's face.

"I could feel you through our bond," he said finally.

Always one for blunt honesty (when it suited him, so maybe always was a bit of a stretch) Gabriel replied, "We kissed."

Castiel flinched as if struck by a killing blow, and his loosely clenched fists became white-knuckled with emotion. Part of Gabriel wanted to lay the blame on Deanna in an attempt to save his relationship with his brother, but he knew that would only hurt him more.

If hating him made the kid feel better, then he could take it.

"It didn't go any further then that," Gabriel continued, watching his younger brother's _utterly _wretched expression carefully, waiting for it to turn. "Soon as I touched your hand print, she threw herself into the wall." Gabriel licked his lips, feeling strangely nervous. "There's nothing between me and her- it was a one off."

"_Don't lie to me_," Castiel hissed, lifting his head to glare at him with genuine venom that reminded him unsettlingly of Lucifer.

"Cas-"

"Why else?" the fury in his tone abruptly switched to something pleading, and so much worse to hear. "Why do you visit her? You and Deanna have never held any fondness for each other."

"Why," Gabriel repeated, voice sticking on the words. "Well," he had to fish around for his grin, "Why don't you ask the girl herself?"

He couldn't tell Castiel about his kid, just yet, but Gabriel _could_ bend the rules a bit; it was one of his _many_ talents.

Castiel's face clouded over with uncertainty and a strange tentative fear shadowed the other archangel's face.

"Talk...to her?" Castiel repeated.

"Yeah," Gabriel's head bobbed with enthusiasm. "Talk to her, lay on some of the old charm," he leered. And then, when he saw the fear increasing in his brother's gaze, he added, in a gentler tone, "She loves you."

Castiel's eyes were bright with sadness and desperate longing that made Gabriel's hackles rise in discomfort, and his chest constrict with guilt. "No, she doesn't," he said, his mouth twisting slightly in an effort to hide how much the words cost him.

"You couldn't be more wrong," Gabriel said quietly. He'd realised from the moment he clapped eyes on the two of them, together, that the kid was all moon-eyed over her, but...this was...

He wouldn't have kissed her, not even to prove his point, if he'd known. Angels weren't supposed to love humans like that, and Tricksters weren't supposed to give a damn either way, but...Castiel was his brother, and there might be some reluctant admiration in there for Dee-Dee.

Winchesters; they made everything difficult. Deanna was too emotionally repressed to actually tell the kid how she felt, when she wasn't ranting to a voice-mail while in one of her pregnancy induced hormonal snits, but the kid wasn't entirely innocent in this mess either.

"She isn't mine- perhaps has never been, yet I find myself...envious."

Gabriel looked at the shattered glass around Chuck's quietly convulsing form. "Yeah. I guessed."

Castiel was silent for a few moments, mulling things over. After a few moments, the iron returned to his spine. He gave Gabriel a hard stare as the hurt was boxed away, and raging jealously was let out to play.

"There is nothing between you two?"

"Never has been," he confirmed with a lazy, wistful smile just to riffle him up. There would doubtlessly be other times to dig his brother's issues out, and correct his view of Dee-Dee's feelings because clearly he was the best brother in the world.

"And there never will be," it was phrased like a question, and issued as a demand; it made Gabriel's skin itch in irritation. He wondered if Dee-Dee would like this side of Castiel, or if it would be another fucking roadblock.

"Of course not," Gabriel said in a rare moment of seriousness. "But I stand by what I said- you should talk to her," _so I don't have to convince her to._

Hell would freeze over before Deanna did what he said without one hell of a fight.

"I cannot. The war-" Castiel said, and it was such a blatant excuse that Gabriel didn't even bother waiting for the rest of it before scoffing.

"We're at an impasse. Or pretty close to it, at least."

"I do not wish to interrupt her life," he said coldly, but his eyes betrayed him. "She has someone else, and she's happy."

"She really isn't," Gabriel butted in.

Castiel paused, and there was a glimmer of something in his eyes. Regret, concern, and more sadness. And, whoa. What a martyr. He wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn't with him- even if he had to feel every touch between Deanna and someone else, even if the pain and jealously drove him mad: he wanted her to be happy.

This was why people like Dee-Dee and him were only suited to quick fucks- they were crazy when they cared, and lovable enough to take someone else down with them. Like Kali.

"More then she was with me," Castiel said lowly.

"I think that had more to do with one of our brothers trying to end the world, and the other trying to hitch a ride in her hot ass, then anything you did- or didn't do."

"The war-"

"Bullshit," Gabriel said. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"Often," Castiel admitted honestly with a frown of confusion. "It would be foolish not to be."

"Not of the war- of her."

"She is rather ferocious when angered." Castiel responded, carefully confusing the issue, a note of warning in his tone.

Gabriel was about to give up, and let his brother sort himself out because he had better things to do, when the ringing screams of their brothers and sisters reached their ears. His eyes widened in surprise, and his gaze snapped upwards. Beside him, Castiel's face went tight in anger.

"An attack," he whispered, hushed, and together they threw themselves up to the heavens, and back into the war.

Seconds after they left, Chuck groaned to himself, and sat up, clutching his head with one hand, and reaching for a bottle with the other, stomach churning with the blood-soaked images burned into his mind.

Being God was tough, but being Chuck was _awful._


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Consequences.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

**This chapter is shorter then my usual ones, but hey, at least I got it out early, right? Right? The next chapter should be out pretty soon, too. My beta is the best thing in the world. I love her, and you love her too.**

* * *

Ben was crying beside her. Curled up around her, clinging desperately, heart-wrenching sobs tearing their way out of his mouth; inhuman sounds of utter grief-stricken misery. Her eyes flew open, and she saw that his were closed. He was asleep, and crying.

It hit her hard, square in the chest, and her temper flared in a flash of impotent fury. It burned out quickly, swiftly replaced by helpless uncertainty. Deanna had never been good at comforting people- hello, Queen of Repression here- but..._but_...

Deanna slid her hands under him as Mary let out a series of piercing wails, and lifted him into her lap like a baby. Blindly, Ben clutched at her, wrapping his legs around her waist, sobbing into her neck. Deanna shuffled out of bed, using one arm to support Ben while she dangled her other hand into Mary's cot, stroking her tiny face soothingly.

She could multi-task with the best of them.

Ben jerked awake in her arms, his sobs faltering briefly as he swam back to consciousness. Mary's cries trailed off almost instantly, settling down into soft sniffling sounds, and there was a hollow relief in the small silence.

Deanna kept Ben to her- no, kept him _safe_ as she felt the wild tremors running up and down his body. Quietly, Ben began to cry again, pressing his face into her neck, his cheeks hot and damp against her skin. His body jerked in pain with every sob, breath huffling against her skin.

A tiny hand wrapped tightly around the fingers on her other hand and she pressed the pad of her thumb against the back of her daughter's palm; her thumb was bigger then her daughter's entire hand. The infant was so fragile, and sometimes it _just _kept startling her.

Deanna swallowed down a wave of helplessness as she stood there, tightening her grip on Ben, and resisting the urge to shuffle her feet like a fucking kid, so uncertain and about as useful.

There was nothing else she could do for Ben but this; comfort him at random hours of the night. There was nothing she could do to magically make Ben okay again, but Deanna felt pretty frickin' determined to be the best goddamn comfort she could be without breaking out the whiskey.

So she held him close, and hummed some of her favourite tunes under her breath until Mary fell back to sleep, and Ben's sobs had all but died down into wet whimpers and sniffles. Her arm ached slightly from the strain, but she could probably hold him like this for another ten minutes at least. If she had to.

"I-" Ben choked on the words, a sound of utter misery pouring out of his mouth, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, buddy." Deanna rubbed his back soothingly, and crossed the floor, kicking out a chair, and setting him down on it. "It's fine," she said to his raw, red eyes and glossy, flushed cheeks.

"I'm not a baby," Ben said, sucking snot up through his nose, and she winced slightly at the sound.

It reminded her of far too many nights, sitting up with Sammy, waiting for her dad to return home after a hunt; the fear and horror whenever he came back later then he'd promised. The sick curdle in her stomach whenever she had to patch up his wounds, stop him from bleeding to death...

"I know," Deanna said, battering the memory away. "But I kind of suck at comforting people. I've only got one move."

"Yeah," Ben agreed, rubbing at his nose. Deanna left him briefly to grab some tissues, and came back in time to hear him say, "I remember the first time Mary started crying," he let out a weak impression of a laugh. "You freaked out."

"Like you were any better," she slapped the tissues down in front of him, grabbed two glasses of water, and sat down.

"But I'm a kid," he protested, grabbing the water first, then blowing his nose, and throwing the tissues away with an absence born of having a minor neat freak as a mother.

"I'm only 20 years older than you," Deanna smirked.

Ben smiled weakly, his gaze lowering to stare at the table. A few quiet moments passed as she observed him, and tried to figure out what he was waiting for. After a while, Ben's gaze rose, and he looked at her uncertainly. "Aren't you going to ask me...?"

"No." Deanna looked away briefly as Ben waited anxiously. She licked her lips, nervous enough that she was almost willing to admit to it. Deanna was great with kids, but it'd been a while since she'd comforted one. "If you wanna talk, knock yourself out. If not," she shrugged, and left the sentence unfinished.

Ben coughed, clearing his throat, gaze returning to the table. "Mom would have made me," he murmured.

Deanna searched for the words, and gave up within moments, because what the fuck was she supposed to say to that? I'm not your mom? Ben was well aware of that, and it was a total dick move anyway.

Ben's fingers twitched nervously on the tabletop. "When the..." his face twisted briefly, "demon said something about... Meg, you looked at me."

Deanna braced herself for it, swallowing painfully. This was gonna hurt.

"Was...did Meg killed my mom?" Ben flinched at the words, and Deanna looked away before she could really see the damage those words brought.

This, right now, was a key moment. What the hell did she tell him? The truth was rough and raw and beyond awful. Ben was a tough kid, a little smartass, but this was a whole new thing. She tapped her finger on the table as she thought it over. She had no right to keep it from him, and she hated lying to him, but was he gonna be able to handle it?

Meg possessed his mom, but Lisa killed Lisa, and, no, Deanna wasn't blamin' her. Mostly because she'd have done the same, if she had no other choice. It wasn't the smart thing to do, but it was the best thing to do; quickest, too.

Hearing about the thing that killed your mom could drive a kid into...something else, and she'd promised to take care of him.

Take care of Ben. Take care of Sammy. She hoped Ben didn't end the same way.

Deanna forced herself to man up, and looked the kid straight in the eye. "I'm going to kill the bitch, you hear me?" she said. Something dark and way too familiar gleamed in Ben's eyes, and Deanna hated to see it. "But you're gonna let me deal with this. On my own."

"No!" Ben hissed quietly but heatedly. He glanced at Mary's cot to see if he'd woken her, and she felt a flash of raw affection for the kid. "She killed my mom!"

Deanna held back her smartass comments. "Yeah. She did. I've fought the bitch before, and I'll fight her again."

His eyes flashed in fury, and his jaw went tight with anger that shouldn't ever touch a kid's face. "Deanna-"

"You have no training," Deanna cut him off curtly, giving him a hard stare. "You'll get yourself killed."

"So?" Ben snarled.

Something spasmed in her chest, and Deanna froze, hearing playbacks of most of her incredibly screwed up life in that one word. Fury swept through her, and her words coming out harsher then she'd planned.

"So? So? Your mom died to keep that bitch away from us, and now you want to die because of it? No. You're not going anywhere near her, you hear me?"

Deanna knew she was the last person _in the entire world_ to throw stones at self-sacrificing stunts, but fuck, hearing that pissed her off enough that she didn't worry about the stone bouncing back, and breaking her nose.

"But-I-what if-" Ben stumbled over excuses, wound tight and angry like- _like her_. "It's not _fair_!" Ben cried, suddenly slumping in his seat, rage evaporating in a quick rush. He hunched in on himself in misery, breathing harshly, eyes filling up with tears.

Some of Deanna's quick temper eased, and she repressed the rest of it. Deanna was feeling something a little like understanding for Bobby, who'd been forced to watch her and Sam spin through every existing circle of dumbassery, and create a few new ones.

Deanna laid a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him back up, tilting his chin up with her other hand to look him in the eyes. Ben stubbornly avoided her eyes, staring over her shoulder, trying to trigger some of her paranoia to divert her focus from him.

Smart kid, but she wasn't completely nuts like most ex-hunters, devoted entirely to paranoia- and it wasn't paranoia if the new King of Hell wanted to perform a live autopsy on your kid.

"Ben," Deanna said. Despite what most people thought, she could play the waiting game every once and a while. So, she waited, and kept her hand under Ben's chin.

Eventually, Ben swallowed, blinking tears away as he met her steady gaze.

"I promise you, that thing that killed your Mom isn't lasting the week," she reached up, and ruffled his hair fondly. "Okay?"

Looking faintly reassured and really troubled, Ben nodded. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath- and held it for a few moments. Ben licked his lips nervously, and glanced down at the tabletop. "You saw...your mom...you know too, right?"

A brief glimpse inside her brother's nursery, flames, something dark red dripping onto the cot as her dad pushed Sammy into her arms, and told her to run. The heavy weight of her baby brother in her arms as she stumbled down the stairs, and tripped outside the house, staining the knees of her nightdress grassy green.

As young as she had been, she'd never been able to forget the smell of burning flesh and grass and her baby brother's scent, tucked under her chin.

Deanna blinked herself out of her small silence, and looked at Ben. Her automatic defenses were raised, but she smashed them down from the inside. Deanna didn't want the kid to grow up as emotionally retard as she was.

"Yeah," Deanna said quietly, unable to stop a certain note of tense warning from leaking into her voice.

"When did you stop dreaming about it?" Ben looked weary, dark circles under his red eyes, and the flush had faded from his cheeks, leaving pale flesh behind.

_Never_, she thought, but as honest as she wanted to be with Ben, it was _too_ honest. "It was a couple of months before they started fading."

Before she'd realized what she's glimpsed from the doorway that night, it was just the smell. The thick, awful smell of burning human flesh remained strong in her memory, and it had taken years for her to be around cooking meat without smelling _that_.

"I don't want to sleep," Ben said quietly, his breaths hitching painfully. "I..._every time_..."

Deanna glanced away, and gripped his hand blindly, unable to look at him. On the drive to Lisa's, after that month at Bobby's, how long had she spent worrying that _this_ would happen? Once a hunter, always a hunter. No one could escape it for long. Not her brother, not her mom, and not her.

Deanna had known that for years, said as much to Sammy once, but she'd still tried, and Lisa died for her stubbornness.

Deanna spent a few moments drowning in self-loathing, before she remembered that, hello, more important things than her right now, damnit, like those two kids of hers, and stood up.

Ben's eyes followed up, and he looked up at her with such trust, and she sure as hell didn't deserve it, but hey, it probably helped him to think she did.

"I'm not gonna lie, things are going to be pretty bad for a while, but things will...get easier. Eventually," she added at his disbelieving expression. "I know it sounds like a sack of bullshit, but trust someone who knows."

Something in Ben's face flickered. "How many people have you lost?"

Deanna forced herself not to run through the list, and settled simply for, "A lot. Now, go get dressed. It's early enough for breakfast."

Ben stood up, and stared at her for a moment, looking at her _differently_ than before. Deanna held his gaze, steady and sure. After a few moment, he started moving, going to his bag, and pulling out some of his clothes, looking...not better, but not worse either.

"Deanna," Ben called quietly, hesitating in the bathroom doorway.

"Kid?"

"Thanks," he murmured, and closed the door quickly behind him, leaving her alone with her guilt and her daughter.

Deanna's thoughts drifted briefly to Meg, and the demon's words, that Meg would find her. Deanna thought of Meg, and felt unbearably angry before it quickly burned out in another wave of helplessness.

Meg would find her, but until then, there were things she needed to do. Like keeping the kid sane, and feeding her daughther. Whenever Mary woke up.

Deanna peered down at her daughter's peaceful face with incredible fondness. Unable to resist, Deanna leaned down, and kissed her daughter's forehead, baby-fine hair tickling her nose slightly, imprinting the calming smell to her senses when she rose, spotting someone behind her in the window.

"So," Gabriel said brightly, and she didn't bother going for her gun. "Breakfast?"

* * *

Deanna's mind jerked to a sharp, sudden halt in the middle of breakfast. Her instincts prickled with certainty: someone was watching them. She fingered her fork carefully as she pulled it from her mouth, swallowing slowly, glancing around the diner casually.

The hurried buzz of several conversations faded out of her focus, as she scanned the room. Some people looked over, but eyes never lingered, and the feeling never faltered. Deanna shifted her leg slightly so the butt of her gun pressed gently against her spine under her jacket; it would only take seconds for her to get to it.

Deanna clenched her teeth in frustration when she couldn't get a lock on the peeping tom. There was a _frickin'_ demon among these people, and she couldn't tell the difference. Goddamnit. The sharp sting of her irritation washed over her, and she glanced out the window searchingly; her finely tuned instincts had failed her, it could be coming from anywhere.

As Deanna's head turned, the grating itch became a sudden stab of warning, and she shot a glance over her shoulder, catching a smirking woman- younger than her, pretty cute, dark hair- as she left the diner. Bitch. Deanna's grip tightened on the fork as she beat the urge to follow her into submission.

Deanna knew Meg; she was a showy, manipulative, arrogant bitch who, after almost six years, still wasn't smart enough to just leave her the fuck alone. She'd slip up, and when she did, Deanna was going to take her fucking head off, but until then- there were plenty of things to keep her distracted while she pretended to be patient.

"Deanna." Ben's voice sliced evenly through her thoughts, and her eyes met his. He looked completely unaware of her boiling temper as his foot knocked into hers under the table. "When are we leaving town?"

"Soon," she answered, compressing her fury into nothingness, and smiling vaguely across the table at him. "There's some stuff we need to sort out before we hit the road."

Out the corner of her eye, Deanna saw Gabriel's eyes flash faintly in surprise. "You know some hunters settle down," he said.

Ben shook his head, "Not us," he said confidently, glancing at her.

"We could, you know," Deanna deftly twirled the fork around in the air, switching fingers, full of too much energy, and so much rage, "if you wanted to..."

"We can help more people if we move around," Ben said, a questioning lit to his voice, determination ghosting through his eyes.

It took a few moments for Deanna to remember where she'd seen that before: in Sammy, when he'd heard about others losing their parents in Arazel's attacks.

A sour sweetness settled in her chest, and she nodded at him. Mary cooed, sounding disturbingly like she agreed. Deanna put her fork down, and pulled Mary out of her stroller, settling the baby in her arms. The baby cuddled into her chest, and the corners of her mouth curved up thoughtlessly.

"What about your friends?" she asked, and shock flashed across Ben's face. The thought of his friends hadn't crossed his grief-clouded mind since Lisa's death.

"This is the kind of thing phones were invented for," Gabriel said brightly, chewing a mouthful of pancakes with enough strawberry syrup to drown several small states. Deanna got the whole sweet tooth deal, but could he even taste the frickin' pancake under there?

He winked at her, and she resisted the urge the punch him in the face, but only because there was a baby in her arms, and, oh, yeah, it hurt like hell. More sense in punching a brick wall.

A trace of uncertainty crossed Ben's face, and Deanna thought, _finally_. Things hadn't hit the kid yet, and she wasn't just thinking about his mom's death. He would be leaving everything and everyone behind, and they wouldn't stop. He'd make friends, and never seen them again, and he'd change schools on a weekly basis.

Soon, the only people who would _really_ matter to Ben would be her and his younger sibling, and Deanna _knew_ that wasn't healthy.

Not for the first time, Deanna considered hunting down some of Lisa's family. Her parents were dead (by natural means, Deanna had checked), but she'd mentioned cousins once or twice.

"I can do that." Ben agreed, nodding. Then, he glanced at her, as if seeking confirmation.

Belatedly Deanna noticed, and nodded.

Mary tugged lightly on a strand of her hair, cooing in quiet contentment.

"So, are you going to...ah," Gabriel snapped his fingers thoughtfully, searching for something. After a moment, his face brightened. "Singer's- Bobby Singer's- yard?"

"Who's Bobby Singer?" Ben wondered.

"An old friend of my dad's," Deanna said, and something in her chest squirmed in discomfort. She, uh, hadn't exactly gotten around to telling him about her kid.

"A, uh-" Ben's eyes quickly flickered around the diner, and his voice lowered slightly,"- hunter, like you?"

"Yeah. One of the best."

"Paranoid old bastard," Gabriel clarified.

Deanna rolled her eyes. "Well, you kinda have to be."

"You're one of the best," Ben said surely.

"Some people think so," Gabriel responded before she could, eyeing her. "Dee-Dee and her brother were a pain in my ass for a little while."

Ben's eyebrows came together in confusion, his expression clearly baffled. "I thought you only hunted demons."

"There are different kind of demons," Deanna explained shortly. "Gabriel was pretending to be a Trickster demon when we met."

"I had them spinning in circles," Gabriel grinned boastfully. "Got them arguing like an old married couple, which wasn't all too hard in the first place, but hey, it was fun while it lasted."

"Why don't you tell him about all those times you killed me?" Deanna retorted snidely.

Talking about Sam- remembering Sam- sent shock waves of pain rushing through her system. Sam, her brother who was suffering in hell, trapped between two pissed off archangels. Her skin prickled with a sudden restlessness the longer she thought of her lost brother- her _brothers_, there were two of them down there.

Yet another thing she and Gabriel shared; only his brothers were damn-near invulnerable.

"You stabbed me," Gabriel pointed out hastily, forking another mouthful of pancakes into his mouth. Ben stared between them, eyes wide with disbelief. "Jesus. The poor kid doesn't know anything. Did you even tell him about your Hell time?"

Deanna scowled at him as Ben's eyes somehow managed to widen even more. She gave into the childish urge to kick him under the table. Gabriel glared at her, and kicked back. Deanna stomped on his foot.

"It isn't exactly something I'd want to read to the kid as a bedtime story," Deanna snapped tensely, dodging one of Gabriel's stray kicks. Mary huffed slightly as she was jolted in her arms, rubbing her cheek mindlessly against Deanna's shirt.

"Pretending?" Ben said, his voice faint and wavering. "Pretending to be a Trickster?" he clarified after finding himself buried under twin-confused expressions.

"He's secretly an archangel," Deanna told him absently, waving the subject on. Mary's tiny fist curled around her index finger, gripping it.

Gabriel gave her a look of outraged disbelief. "Do you have to tell _everyone_?" he demanded, voice ringing with accusation.

"Archangel Gabriel?" Ben repeated in disbelief. He stared at Gabriel, who actually _twitched_ when the kid said his name.

Gabriel's mouth stretched into a grin. "The one and only."

"But..."

"He's a dick, yeah." Deanna said, matter-of-fact. "All of the angels are."

Mary let out a soft, high cry. Deanna acted instantly, touching her cheek to sooth her, rocking her gently. Ben and Gabriel gave the baby a twin set of wary looks, but they calmed when she did.

Except Cas, Deanna added mentally. But then considering how she got to be sitting in the diner, he kinda was. He'd left her, hadn't he? Thrown her away as soon as his job was done after both of her brothers did the swan dive.

No. Cas was a dick, too.

"Last night, you called him Loki." Ben stated, turning back into the subject.

"I went into witness protection," Gabriel mentioned casually. "I've been a Trickster for...heh, over a thousand years."

"But why?"

"His brothers are dicks- we just went over this, remember? And his dad went MIA." Deanna told him. "If anyone asks, he's Loki."

Gabriel nodded in agreement with her first comment. "Especially Zachariah. He was a smug bastard," he looked at Deanna. "You know him, right?"

"He was the one riding my ass about letting Michael camp out in my meatsuit," she admitted, gritting her teeth in remembered irritation. "Biggest douchebag of the whole bunch. I actually liked Lucifer better."

"Me, too," Gabriel said. "And he killed me!"

Deanna wondered if the Croatoan future counted. Considering the way her other self had stared up at the archangel wearing her brother's face as he broke her neck with his shiny white shoes, Deanna figured it should.

Her brain ached distantly at the memory of it; Sam as the devil, Cas as her, except even worse, and herself as Alistair. Fun times!

"I'm confused," Ben announced, looking lost. "You're an angel," he looked at Gabriel. "You were in _Hell_," he looked at Deanna, his nose wrinkling in confusion. "And what's a...meatsuit?"

"Your asshole brothers," she said to Gabriel, leaning back in her chair. "You explain."

With some grumbling involved, Gabriel began to explain. To his credit, Deanna only had to interrupt once or twice to correct his version of their 'run-ins'. Breakfast was cold by the time they caught Ben up, but at least the kid wasn't having minor mental breakdowns everytime they brought up the past.

"You sold your soul for your brother?" Ben demanded incredulously. Because of his recent loss, Deanna had been planning to gloss over that, but Gabriel was, as once stated, a goddamn asshat. "And your father sold his soul for you? And then, you got dragged out of Hell by an angel? What the hell?"

Ben stared at her as if she was the dumbest thing on the planet while Gabriel cackled into his smoothie. Why the hell was he still there, anyway? Gabriel never stuck around for long unless he had a reason.

"Excuse me," Deanna's ass was promptly saved by a waitress. She looked to be in her late forties with pink cheeks and graying hair. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but a woman left this for you, a little while ago."

"Thanks." Deanna said automatically, glancing around the diner. "Is she still here?"

"No," the woman said apologetically. "Sorry. She left a little while ago."

The waitress placed a slip of paper on the table with a smile on her face as she walked away, and Gabriel reached for Mary. As Deanna willingly passed the baby over, Mary let out an annoyed groan. Deanna picked up the piece of paper while Gabriel fussed over the kid slightly.

Despite the foreboding lodged in her gut, Deanna couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the 'big bad Trickster' fussing over a baby. Her amusement fizzled out within seconds, however, when she considered the paper.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who the message was from; Meg. Deanna glanced at the retreating waitress. She wasn't Meg's type, but fat maids weren't Ruby's either.

As Deanna unfolded the piece of paper, Ben spoke, his voice ringing with curiosity, "What is it?"

Deanna didn't respond. As she read, her face became tight, and she folded the paper away, shoving it in her pocket. It was an address, a store's address, a few blocks away from the music store. It was signed Meg, with a smiley face- a smiley face with the top of it's head blown off.

Gun, blood splatter and all of the gory details.

Rage boiled under her skin, and Deanna cursed violently under her breath. Ben's eyes went wide when he picked up on some of the words she was using, and Gabriel looked faintly impressed. Any other day, Deanna may have been proud of that.

"It's a trap," he said mockingly. Gabriel was skimming her mind - the nosey son of a bitch- as he stroked Mary's cheek absently.

"I know," Deanna said, grinding her teeth, and _hating_ her new sense of reason _so fucking much_. "She wants me mad."

"You look pretty pissed." Ben noticed quietly, his eyes dark with concern. "What's going on?"

Gabriel caught her eye, and Deanna sighed, lacing her fingers together thoughtfully. The conflict was already getting old; how much to tell Ben?

"Oh, you know, old demon pal." Deanna unlaced her fingers, and crackled the knuckles, slumping in her chair, a dangerous grin crossing her face. "Wants to hook up."

* * *

**Yes. I really am cruel enough to leave you a cliffhanger, and demand reviews! MWHAHAHAHA!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Consequences.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

**I'm guessing you guys weren't so hot on the last chapter, then. Well. Lets hope this one suits your tastes more.**

* * *

Deanna crossed her ankles as she shoved her cell back into her jeans, tilting her head backwards, the cold night air kissing her cheeks. Freakin' estate agents.

She was finally making some progress on selling Lisa's house. Deanna was gonna have to re-paint the hall, and setting foot in that fucking house was pretty high on the list of things she 'would literally rather kiss God's ass then do' so it was fair to say Deanna was a little pissed off.

Standing in a parking lot, waiting for an ambush to show up, did little to improve her mood. Gabriel was thinning the demon herd, and probably traumatizing random people, but Deanna wasn't about to get too choked up about that. A disturbing number of people had mistaken her for a hooker, and been promptly told to go screw themselves if they wanted it so badly.

Deanna moved around her beloved Impala, and perched herself on the hood, letting her senses run wild as she had done the night Gabriel decided to show up for the first time since being iced by the devil. She crossed her legs, and closed her eyes.

Deanna trusted her senses enough to let the calm, still night lull her into a calmer frame of mind, away from demons and estate agents, and, really, she wasn't all too sure there was that much of a difference there. It wasn't long before her forced peace was shattered like fragile glass when her mind wrapped around Lisa's death, and refused to let go.

The memory sent shockwaves of rage through her body, and her muscles became tant. Deanna rolled her shoulders backwards, and impatiently considered grabbing a beer from the motel room before she hulked out.

Distantly, her sharp senses picked up on the sounds of the TV in their room. Sure, Ben, after an hour of bribes, agreed not to wait with her, but that didn't mean he was gonna sleep through it.

The near silence was disturbed by the sound of high heels, clicking on the ground, getting closer. Deanna's head snapped to the side, and her eyes flew open. Her hand slid up her thigh as her gaze settled on the smirking woman from the diner.

Shocker,

**Deanna thought sarcastically, subtly drawing Ruby's knife from her waistband.**

Meg's new host was pretty; long, dark hair, rosy cheeked, normal height. The kind of girl Deanna would have gone for in a bar if she'd been showing a little more cleavage. Meg prowled forward, a seductive sway to her long, pale limbs, eyelashes fluttering prettily.

"You didn't show up." Meg said, pouting playfully. "Guess you got smarter. I heard pregnancy killed brain cells, not revived them."

Deanna bit her tongue on a thousand retorts, and waited until Meg was standing in front of her baby before sliding down the hood, trailing a hand down the smooth metal, silently apologizing for letting that demon scum anywhere near her. Her actions were smooth, and something dark and admiring flashed through Meg's eyes when Deanna got to her feet.

Meg's new body was shorter then her, and the demon peered up at her coyly. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked teasing.

Deanna flickered her eyes over Meg's form, and allowed her distaste to show on her face, the corner of her lips curling. "I liked you better blonde."

Meg's smile turned nasty, dipping downwards. "I liked my last body better," she purred, licking her lips.

Deanna's temper snapped, and her hand shot out, quicker than the demon's suddenly alarmed eyes could process, curling around Meg's windpipe, crushing. Deanna's eyes glinted darkly as she slowly pulled Meg towards her, steadily increasing her pressure. Her neck bent towards Meg's, close enough to kiss.

The darkness in Meg's eyes twisted, and changed into a sick delight as if she honestly thought Deanna would breach those last inches. If Meg wanted to tango with a Winchester, she was a couple of years too late.

As if hearing her thoughts, Meg smirked. "Thought Little Brother was the one hot for demons?" her voice was sharp and raspy, throat struggling for breath inside Deanna's hand.

With a snarl of rage, Deanna pushed Ruby's knife back into her waistband, and violently twisted that hand in Meg's hair, tightening her grip on the demon's neck, and viciously slamming her face down into her knee.

Meg let out a short, muffled scream of pain as her meatsuit's nose broke, and blood stained the knee of Deanna's pants. The scream trailed off into a choked, pained laugh as Deanna slammed her down on the Impala's hood.

Blood gushed into Meg's mouth, staining her white teeth as her body twitched in sick amusement, panting harshly through the pain.

"Oh, sweetheart," Deanna sneered, pinning one of Meg's hands down, reaching for the knife, "Sam may have been into demons, but he still didn't want you, bitch."

Meg stopped laughing abruptly, her face twisting in fury. Her other hand flew forward, and tangled into Deanna's tank top, yanking her forward, ripping several hairs out in the process.

"Your archangel's busy." Her teeth flashed in a snarl, and Deanna's instincts gave a sudden scream of warning.

Deanna ripped Ruby's knife out of her waistband, and sliced backwards blindly, tearing through thin air, and then flesh; the throat. There was a choked gurgle from behind her, blood spraying onto the back of her jacket, and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Deanna hoped to hell the throat she'd just slit had been demon, and not some misguided bystander.

Meg stared over her shoulder, looking faintly surprised until Deanna drove her elbow into the demon's face. Meg grunted in pain, head jerking to the side as her leg curled around the back of Deanna's thigh, and pulled. Her knees smashed into her car, and the muscles in the back of her legs buckled violently in surprise.

Deanna stumbled backwards automatically.

"_Nice _aim," Meg gasped roughly, and lunged forward, smashing her fist into Deanna's cheek. Deanna staggered backwards, tasting iron in her mouth as her cheek throbbed painfully, toughly spitting a mouthful of blood onto the other demon's corpse.

Where the _hell_ was Gabriel?

"You done talking?" Deanna demanded. She kicked out, slamming her boot into Meg's vulnerable stomach, choking the demon's retort off, and sending her crashing to the floor.

Apparently, the back-up didn't like that.

Footsteps pounded across the parking lot, and four other demons rushed towards Deanna; two men, two woman, four sets of inky black eyes from four different directions. Deanna didn't allow herself to take in any details as she glanced at the charging demons, and braced herself.

One of the women reached her first, and Deanna smashed her fist into the demon's nose, knocking her to the ground. There was a flash of movement in the corner of her eye, and she jerked her other elbow into the other woman's face as she tried to sneak up on her.

The female demon cried out in pain as Deanna twisted, kicking her upper thigh with enough force to send her crashing to the floor; her cry of pain turned into a scream. An arm grabbed hers, and a fist flew for her face, but Deanna was quicker; blocking the man's fist, grabbing _his_ lapels and ruthlessly slicing his throat.

There was a gurgle, a flash of light, and more blood flowing onto her leather jacket.

One down, four to go. Goddamnit, she _hated_ her life.

Meg was still on the floor when the other man reached her, and she helpfully attempted to trip Deanna, a low laugh rising in her throat as the man and Deanna briefly exchanged blows. The demons weren't very well trained, which actually pissed Deanna off slightly. One false start and a punch to the balls later, the other guy was on the floor.

Meg tried to trip her one last time as the man fell, but Deanna wasn't fucking around here, so she landed heavily on Meg's leg. Something shattered, and Meg howled in pain. "You bitch!"

The first woman-short red hair, and tanned skin- lurched to her feet, but a quick swipe of Deanna's leg knocked her back down. The demon let out a sound vaguely akin to a kicked puppy when she hit the floor; a sound that promptly turned into a scream when Deanna stomped on her stomach.

The redhead curled up on the side, clutching her stomach, breath harsh and ragged.

The male-middle age, balding brown hair- demon snarled in rage, and staggered to his feet, rushing at her. Deanna dodged the first hit, and threw a punch of her own, which the man caught. He twisted her wrist viciously, and punched her in the face. Deanna recoiled, her arms slipping from his grasp as she fell against the side of her car, dazed by the blow, her jaw throbbing in pain.

Her vision wavered for a moment, and Ruby's knife almost slipped out of her sweating palms. She gripped the roof of her car to keep standing as the man advanced forward and the woman followed on his heels. The woman's eyes were dark with bloodthrist.

In the background, Deanna heard Meg let out a pissed, pained laugh as she clutched at her leg. The redheaded demon staggered unsteadily to her feet, watching Deanna.

Deanna blew several strands of hair out of her face, and reminded herself that she'd dealt with shit like this before as she braced herself against her car with both of her hands, pressing the flat of the knife against the roof, hoping to hell that she didn't scratch her baby's paintwork. She used the roof as leverage, grunting slightly with effort, and kicked out with both of her legs once the two demons were close enough.

Her kicks sent the two demons staggering backwards; the man staggered left, and the woman stumbled right. Deanna lunged forward, slashing out at the man, seeing him as the more dangerous one, and hit her mark perfectly; the throat. Light flashed for the third time that night as another soul was destroyed.

Blood gushed from the body's neck as it fell, showering her face with the liquid; hot and wet and such a large part of her life as nuts as that sounded. The remaining demon actually capable of staying on her feet for longer then five seconds- for fuck's sake- used her distraction against her by grabbing her shoulders, yanking her backwards with a howl of fury.

Deanna stumbled, tripping over her feet, crashing into the woman's chest and iron grip. The demon's hands slid down her arms, and gripped her by the elbows, pulling her arms back and tight enough that Deanna couldn't shake her off.

"Drop the knife," the demon snarled in her ear. Deanna barked out a laugh. The redheaded woman moved forward, circling them once, moving to stand in front of Deanna.

The other woman's grip became vice-like, her nails digging into Deanna's arms, bruising and breaking the skin, spilling her blood. Deanna contained her flinch, and sneered at the redheaded demon.

"Drop the knife, or I'll _break_ your arm!"

"Oh, like you wouldn't anyway." Deanna snarled back, gritting her teeth in pain. The redheaded demon smiled at her, the action was deeply unpleasant. The redhead's fist crashing into her stomach was even less pleasant.

Deanna gasped and grunted in pain, shock waves of pain rippling through her. She doubled over with a choked curse as Ruby's knife slipped out of her hand, hitting the floor with a loud defeated clatter. "Son of a bitch!"

Meg laughed, strained. "You kissed your angel with that mouth?"

Deanna's blood boiled with fury as the redheaded demon balled her fist again, and reared backwards with an ugly smile. Deftly, Deanna twisted her leg between the woman's and yanked, sending the demon crashing to the floor with a yelp, her nails raising welts down Deanna's arms as she fell.

Deanna surged forward, grabbing the powerful blow intended for her gut, and introduced the redheaded demon to her right hook. The demon flew backwards with a split lip and a short panicked scream, falling against the Impala. A flash of raw fury struck Deanna's heart at the sight of a demon anywhere near her precious car; she snarled, hauling the demon off the Impala.

Out of the corner of her eye, Deanna spotted fear on Meg's face, and she hurled the redhead down on her shattered leg, elicting another howl of pain. That should distract her from smoking out, Deanna thought. She turned sharply on her heel, and smashed her foot into the other demon's jaw as it struggled to scramble backwards, away from her.

The demon let out a choked noise of fear and pain as Deanna grabbed Ruby's knife from the floor, and stabbed downwards with enough force to hurt her hand, and rip through the woman's breastbone.

Deanna ripped the knife from the demon's chest, and turned to face Meg and the redhead, stalking forward with blood staining her face and clothes, a dark look in her eyes, gripping the knife with intent.

The other demon died quickly, soaking Ruby's knife in another coat of blood. Deanna hauled her off of Meg, and knelt down beside the black-eyed bitch. Dark, ugly rage compressed her chest, soaring through her blood, and Deanna's smile contained a feral fury in it. Her green eyes looked sour and poisonous as she looked Meg over, her lip curling over her teeth, barely restrained violence in the tense set to her shoulders.

"What the hell happened to you?" Meg demanded breathlessly, staring at her with eyes wide from disbelief and no small amount of terror. Her face was tight with pain, and there was no playfully mocking in her expression.

Strangely, Deanna thought back to that day, years in a previous future, and Cas' hollow eyes and broken smile.

"Life," she smiled coldly, mind flipping to Lisa, the doting mother and witty woman. "It's been real, Meg, but I gotta say-you were really startin' to become _drag_," and she drove the knife into Meg's chest, inches below the heart.

Meg's eyes went wide, and she gasped, choking on her own blood, staring at Deanna in disbelief. And fear.

"I've been wanting to do that since the say I laid eyes on your _smug_ face," Deanna told her, rage boiling under her every word, lingering in her clenched jaw.

Red light flashed as whatever the fuck Meg had in the place of a soul was destroyed, and Deanna watched until _every_ last spark had died out, leaving only a body behind.

Deanna stood up slowly, aching, bloodstained, in a parking lot full of dead bodies beside a motel where everyone was smart enough not to open the door if they heard screaming, and she felt... pretty goddamn awesome.

Meg had been a near-constant pain in her ass since she'd fetched Sam from Stanford, and it was great to finally be free from that. Lisa's killer was dead, and _that _felt even better. The bloodthirsty voice in her gut, screaming for revenge, was sated. For now.

And she'd rid the world of a couple of demons in the process. Which would have been pretty impressive with her and Sam, but on her own? And all at the same time? _Awesome_. She deserved a shrine or somethin'.

Deanna took a few moments to bask in her pride, and catch her breath, rolling her sweaty shoulders, struggling to ignore the lingering pain in her gut. She was gonna be black and blue for a couple of weeks. Crap. Considering how hard that dumb bitch had hit her, she'd be lucky to come out without some good ol' fashioned internal bleeding.

"That was...actually pretty impressive, Dee," an irritatingly familiar voice said, and, okay, seriously, _no one_ should honestly be stupid enough to sneak up on her after that kind of fight, so Deanna didn't feel too bad when the knife flew out of her hand and tore through the air.

Gabriel caught it without looking up from the six bodies.

Deanna's good mood was swiftly replaced by anger. "Where the hell were you?" she demanded roughly.

"Something came up." Gabriel said, looking up at her. Deanna's snarl died in her throat as she caught something...off in his usual smug expression.

Deanna narrowed her eyes, and took stock of him with a flicker of her eyes. There was nothing outwardly different about him, except perhaps a weary slope to his shoulder, but considering this was the million or so year old former archangel, and current Trickster, the small sign of distress was practically inconsolable sobbing, shaking a fist at the sky, and screaming 'WHY?'

"Shit," Deanna cursed heatedly, stepping over a body to get a better look at him. "What the hell happened?"

A faintly surprised expression passed over his face. "Small battle back home," Gabriel said, shoulders tensing uncomfortably under her stare. "Castiel is fine," he said as concern crossed her face.

"Well, good." Deanna stated, a note of relief hidden in her voice. She glanced around the parking lot uncomfortably, before adding, "What about, uh, you?"

Gabriel's eyes widened, and his false smile stretched into a genuine grin. "Dee-Dee, I didn't know you cared!"

"You grow on people. It's kinda weird," Deanna said, playing at unaffected and unashamed of her reluctant, growing fondness for the annoying son of a bitch. "Like a strange, toxic mold. You'll probably be the death of me, too."

"Nah." Gabriel shrugged with his mouth as much as his shoulders. "It gets...kinda dull after the first few times."

Deanna resisted the urge to shoot him, and looked back down at Meg's body. Some part of her was unable to believe the bitch was really dead; the only person who'd 'died' more times than Meg was her.

It was funny how even _Meg_ had been shocked by the change in her. Deanna felt a spark of fury at herself. Between the seals and Lucifer, she'd never really taken the time to deal with the shit that went on down in the ground- and, honestly, it wasn't really a can of worms she was all too willing to open- but, now, she couldn't _stop_ thinking of it.

Gabriel moved to her side, peering down at the bodies, lingering on none in particular. "I caught the end of the fight," he told her, and nodded at the female demon. Not the redhead. "When you were bumping her off the mortal coil."

"Gee," she spat sarcastically. "Thanks for your help."

"You seemed to be doing fine on your own."

"What's your point?"

Gabriel gazed at her. "They were untrained."

"Yeah." Deanna nodded, her mouth twisting into a frown. "I noticed."

"But not _that_ untrained," he nodded at the gaping hole in the demon's chest. Deanna's arm ached faintly, remembering the force she'd used to create that hole.

Deanna knew what he was eluding, too; the whole freaky-DNA- mutation deal. She was still pretty unsure of how to feel about that. On some level, it pissed her off that she might not be entirely human by the time she kissed her ass goodbye. On another, she was glad Cas- and Mary- had had such a large effect on her; made her feel less like a tool for actually giving a shit about him.

"How far is this thing going to stretch?"

There hadn't been time for this conversation before, when she'd thought her friends were pulling a Brady on her. She was still pretty staggered by the whole Crowley thing. Demons were demons, but Crowley had just seemed _smarter_ than that.

"No idea," Gabriel said in such a cheery way that Deanna almost punched him again. "This has never happened before, remember, Dee-Dee?"

He snapped his long, tanned fingers. The parking lot was cleared of any blood, and the bodies disappeared. The drying blood on Deanna's face disappeared, and her skin tingled slightly from the feel of his...grace brushing up against her. Like a house cat or somethin'.

"Yeah, I remember." she said absently, staring at where Meg's body had been. Ruby's knife was clean in her hands. It was like it'd never happened, which was...unsettling. "So, where'd you send 'em?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Mexico," as he said this, he glanced upwards, his mouth drawing down in irritation, but Deanna caught his eyes flashing briefly in concern.

"Hearing voices?" Deanna quipped, cocking an eyebrow. She shoved her hands in her pockets, and turned towards the motel. "I'll kiss Mary goodnight for you."

Years ago, that would have been sarcastic instead of an actual promise. Behind her, Gabriel cursed lightly under his breath, and disappeared with the sound of flapping wings. She slipped the knife back into her waistband before she unlocked the door, and stepped over the salt line.

Ben was sprawling on his bed with Mary on his chest. He was snoring. Deanna paused in the doorway, caught between the desire to tease him about it or tiredly curl up with them. She closed the door behind her, and settled for taking a picture to blackmail Ben with when he was older.

Teenagers, she remembered, were fucking annoying.

Deanna switched off the TV, and got changed for bed, hiding Ruby's knife under her pillow. She wasn't surprised when, a couple of hours later, Ben crawled into bed with her, burying his face into her shoulder, hugging her tightly.

"Dead?" he whispered into the night.

Deanna grunted in confirmation, released her grip on Ruby's knife, and wrapped her arms around the kid protectively, and dozed back to sleep.

* * *

Deanna's dark blond hair whipped around her face as she contemplated Lisa's house, shifting Mary's squirming form in her arms. It was a nice day, sunny and clear. It was Monday, exactly a week after Lisa's death. The house had been sold, along with most of the other things in the house. They'd be leaving town soon.

Deanna ignored the unexpected pang in her stomach as she turned that thought over. As if hearing her thoughts, Ben shifted at her side, gaze fixed on his home, clutching one of his many photo albums in his arms.

Deanna leaned back slightly, pressing the small of her back into the Impala.

"I broke that window," Ben said suddenly, lifting his hand, and pointing at the college dude's house. At the broken window, Deanna noticed with a jolt of surprise.

Hadn't the demon mentioned a broken window before she'd kicked its ass?

"I heard...things, from the car, and I couldn't stay there while you got your ass kicked." Ben glanced at her briefly. "I couldn't leave Mary, in case..." he cut himself off, returning his gaze to the house. "Somebody would come over and complain. They'd find Mary."

"That's a decent plan," Deanna said, her gaze lingering on the kid's messy hair. Ben didn't look at her, so she turned her eyes back to the house. "Flawless, if only half those kids weren't demons."

"Yeah," Ben said with a quiet bitterness, causing her to look at him.

Deanna's first rule regarding emotions was if you couldn't see and/or kill 'em, they didn't exist. Her second rule was, no matter how much Sammy whines, never talk about the shit that makes you mad until you were way over it. Winchesters solved their problems with rock salt and their fists, not girly-emotional crap.

But she was gettin' sick of Ben's suffering. Crying kids always screwed with her head, but she was used to Ben being...kinda like her. Witty and awesome.

"So," Deanna cleared her throat uncomfortably.

Ben looked away from the house, and up at her. His eyes were sad and brown. They reminded her of Sammy so much that she had to look away before she drove herself nuts.

"So...you, uh, wanna talk about it now?"

Ben swallowed, and shook his head silently.

While Ben was busy not responding, a blue car pulled up beside her Impala. The door opened, and Ozzie's towering form got out of the driver's seat, slamming the door shut beside him. He began walking over to them while Brian stumbled out of the other door, and quickly gained on his older friend.

"Hey," Ozzie said, ruffling Ben's hair, trying and failing to kiss Deanna's cheek. He pouted at her briefly before leaning down to press his lips to Mary's pretty pink cheeks. "Hi," he added in a gentler tone, voice muffled by her daughter's skin.

Brian reached them as Ozzie straightened up, reaching out to squeeze Deanna's wrist. Deanna glared at him, and he let go with an apologetic wince, brushing his finger across Mary's cheek as he moved around them, standing beside Ben.

"How are you?" Brian asked quietly.

"Feel like shit," Ben replied in a blunt, depressed tone.

Brian blinked in surprise, and turned his gaze to Deanna. "Is he allowed to swear?" he demanded, outraged.

"Don't swear," Deanna responded flatly.

Brian frowned at her.

"What?" Deanna snapped sharply."You want me to punish the kid right now?"

Brian looked away sheepishly, eyes landing on the house, and he murmured, "Sorry."

Deanna shook her head. "It's fine," she said tensely.

Ozzie cleared his throat, and clapped a hand down on her shoulder. "So, you ready?"

Ben nodded quietly. Brian looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure about this," he said. "Isn't it property damage?"

"Not until it belongs to someone else," Ozzie said, his tone ringing with faint reassurance.

This didn't seem to calm Brian's nerves, but he sucked it up with a single glance at Ben.

"Okay. Now that that's out of the way, time for some property damage." Deanna flashed Brian a smirk as the college student let out a quiet groan. Together, the four- well, five- walked over to the front deck outside Lisa's house.

Ozzie took Mary from her arms, and smiled down at the infant. Brian peered over the taller man's shoulder, and made a face at the baby. Ozzie cooed down at her, sloppy and noisy. Deanna caught Ben's eye, and rolled her eyes. The kid's lips quirked up in a faint, tentative smile.

Deanna jammed a hand into her pocket, and pulled out her silver penknife. She held it out to Ben with a nod. Ben took it from her hands, his fingers shaking slightly as he moved under the deck. Deanna drew her lighter out of her pocket, and crouched beside him, making sure to keep the burning flame far away from the wood.

Ben wasn't ready to part with his mom's ashes, and it seemed wrong that the old place wasn't marked somehow by what had happened. Her dad had done the same thing with their old house before leaving town. Deanna hoped it wouldn't become too much of a tradition; she wanted to see her kids grow up.

Ozzie and Brian continued to coo down at her daughter, earning soft, gurgling sounds. Ben flipped the pocketknife open, and began to carve into the bottom of the deck, where Deanna had once spent hours drawing chalk protections into. Where they had been erased by a clumsy kid, a few doors away.

But Deanna _wasn't_ going to track the kid down, and beat some sense into him because college kids were fucking dumb, and if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. And she didn't kill _people_.

A couple of minutes later, Ben crawled back out, and slapped the closed penknife into her palm. Deanna rose, stuffing the knife and lighter back into her pocket, pulling the kid back to his feet with her free hand. He didn't weigh a lot, so it was pretty easy.

Ben shifted closer to her, staring at the house where he had grown up, where his sister had been born, where his mother had died. His hand gripped hers for a moment before he could look away from the house, away from her, re-directing his gaze to the grass with an uncomfortable swallow.

Deanna ruffled his hair, letting her hand rest on his skull for a few moment until the slump to his shoulder disappeared. A gust of window blew her hair into her face as she turned back to Ozzie and Brian.

Feeling her gaze, they looked up from Mary. Their adoring eyes faltered, and their smiles retreated.

"Time to say goodbye, huh?" Ozzie murmured, his voice unusually quiet and serious. Brian gripped Mary's fist, eyes glinting in despair. Brian was one sob away from _growing_ a womb. Christ, even Sammy would have drawn the line there.

Deanna noted the flippancy in her thoughts. Oh, boy. She was able to joke about it now without wanting to wrestle a wendigo. Progress, she wondered, or a whole new level of 'dead inside'?

"Seems so," Deanna said neutrally, walking around them, striding across the lawn to her car.

It wasn't that she wouldn't..._miss_ them. She wasn't a complete jerk, but she'd never been comfortable with goodbyes. God knows she'd had her fair share whenever they'd stuck around for long enough for her to give a crap.

"Call as soon as you get there?" Brian asked, falling into step beside her, his steps hurried.

"Yeah, sure."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Pinkie swear and everything."

Bizarrely, despite the sarcasm in her tone, Deanna was actually considering calling.

"Pass her over," Ben said to Ozzie behind her. Deanna glanced back to see Ben was stretch upwards, peering at Mary with distracted brown eyes. "I'll get her into her car seat."

"Oh. Sure." Ozzie bent down, and transferred Mary into Ben's arms. His movements were always wary whenever he handed her baby to someone else, but they were slower then ever, reluctant. He stopped to kiss her forehead when she was safely settled in Ben's arms.

Ozzie was frowning at the floor when Ben moved past them. Brian opened the back door for the kid. Sadness passed over Ozzie's face. Deanna looked away with a knot of regret in her throat.

As Brian bent down to look in on Ben as he buckled Mary in, Ozzie stepped closer to her. "I'm going to miss you, Dean."

"More like miss seeing my hot body every day," Deanna joked uncomfortably.

Ozzie let out a slight puff of laughter, and stepped closer. "I don't care if you don't hug back, you crazy red-neck."

Deanna stood still as Ozzie leaned forward, and wrapped his arms around her stiff form, crushing her to his chest like she was some dumb broad in one of those old movies. His arms squeezed around her ribs, and then slid down her back, grabbing her ass.

Deanna jerked forward in surprise; her hands moving up to grip his shoulders painfully tight. Her knee bent upwards, brushing his crotch for one long, threatening moment before dropping back down.

"Stupid bastard," she grumbled.

Ozzie laughed against her ear, hot breath puffing over her face. "Look, Dean, you're finally hugging me back."

"So, uh. Tell me, Ozzie. Is your life flashing before your eyes?"

"A bit," Ozzie admitted, and his hands released her ass. "But it was totally worth it." He stepped back, grinning playfully at her.

"You always were an ass man," Deanna commented.

"No," he smirked, looking her over slowly. "Just yours."

"Thanks, Ozzie," Deanna said ironically. "That's real classy."

They'd said worse to each other during work hours, sharing smirks and comparing notches. Deanna had never had a friend like Ozzie before. Or like Brian. It was easier, somehow.

When she and Cas had been just friends, it'd always been so serious and charged with sexual tension. The world was ending, and they'd always been so different, but they'd understood each other better then she and Sammy had since her death by hellhounds.

"What's a little tactlessness between friends?"

"I don't know," Deanna said. "A busted up face, maybe?"

Ozzie laughed slightly, looking away.

There was a brief exchange of hugs between the four of them, and Deanna's nerves were pretty high-strung by the time it was through.

Sure, she liked Ozzie and Brian, but she just wasn't used to people being so close. Hugging wasn't her thing, never had been. It was too vulnerable, too closed in, too close to the neck. Her hunting instincts had been given a rude awakening over the last few days, and they were paranoid from disuse.

"We're going to miss you all so much," Brian murmured into her neck. Deanna forced herself to pat his back, pulling away. She punched his shoulder affectionately, and saw him wince slightly from the force.

"I'll call," she swore, and honestly meant it. "We'll come visit sometime."

Brian looked at her uncertainly as he backed off of her. He smiled, looking relieved when he realized she was being serious. "Good."

The Impala's door slammed shut, and Ben grimaced at her, mouthing an apology in the back seat. Deanna held her tongue, frowning back. Her poor baby. She really needed to install some proper appreciation for the old girl in the kid's head before he did her serious damage.

Ozzie cackled quietly, backing away, and climbing into his car. "See ya on the flipside, Dean!"

Brian met her gaze for a moment before turning back to Ozzie's car.

"Bye Deanna," he said, and climbed into the car.

As Ozzie's car drove off, and a hand stuck out of the window, waving at her. Deanna opened the Impala's door. Her neck pricked suddenly, and she looked up. The college kid stared at her, wide-eyed and pale, from his doorway.

Deanna caught his gaze, and gave him a long, hard look. He scurried back inside, slamming the door behind him. For a moment, Deanna considered going after him. She stopped herself, and climbed into the car.

The door closed behind her, the keys went in, and the Impala _purred_ beautifully. The tension between Deanna's shoulder blades eased as the radio switched on. She rolled the windows down, and popped the glove box.

Her dad's journal rested amongst a bed of her tapes. Deanna reached in, and grabbed it.

"Here," she caught Ben's attention, and passed it to him.

"What is this?"

"A hunting journal," she answered. "My dad's. It'll have everything you need to know in there. Kinda like the Book of Shadows."

Lisa had liked that stupid show- Charmed or something- and Deanna collected old pop-culture like those nerds in her old high school collected stamps.

"Try not to have nightmares."

Ben smiled, quick and wryly. He flipped the journal open, and began to read.

Deanna turned her gaze back to the long, open road, and began to drive away from her former home, leaving no trace of herself behind.

Except for memories and that little house that had once been a home, with the name Lisa Braeden branded into a wooden deck in her child's shaky scrawl.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

**The finale broke my heart, so I have to ask; what were your thoughts on the finale, anyway? **

* * *

John Harris was a normal 17 year old, or so his parents said. He had been the captain of his school's football squad before he'd dropped dead of a heart attack after spending a night squatting at the local creep-shack. Clearly, the kid wasn't a fan of horror movies.

His parents were Catholic, so Deanna could get behind that.

John Harris had been so typical it was unnerving. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed and strong. The kind of dude Deanna would never have gone for as a teenager, because there were stereotypes, and then there were _stereotypes_. The kid was a regular dumb jock.

Another thing about the kid: he didn't mind hitting a woman if the meaty fist flying for Deanna's face was any indication. Deanna ducked the swing by a mere inch, and grabbed his wrist, holding him in place so he couldn't dodge hers.

Harris grunted in pain as his lips split, but didn't bleed. He staggered slightly, but not much. And by slightly, she meant forward with a raised fist and an ugly snarl. There was a loud clutter upstairs, and the hurried sound of tiny, pre-teen footsteps as Ben tried to get to the witch's alter.

Teenage witches, animated corpse of a crush, literally drooling jocks. Her life was a frickin' sitcom.

The animated corpse was slow, and uncoordinated. She'd already knocked him down twice. Deanna paced around him briefly, waiting until he stepped forward, before kicking out, and hitting his groin.

"Bitch," the jock let out a pain-filled grumble, doubling over. Faster than she'd expected, he reached out, and grabbed her knee, yanking her legs out from under her. Deanna hit the creep-shack's floor hard, lashing out with her feet, swiping his legs out from under him, and leaping back to her own.

The floor shook as Harris hit the floor with a groan. Deanna smashed her foot into the side of his face, grunting slightly with effort. She'd worked up a light sweat, and her body was bruised in several places. The 'zombie' wasn't fast, but Harris wasn't really affected by pain, and he had several inches on her.

He'd gotten some hits in, but she'd landed more.

Harris bared his teeth in snarl of pain, foot flying up, and colliding with her stomach. Pain rocked through her system, and Deanna choked, falling backwards from the force, crashing back to the floor with a loud thump. More pain jarred up her flank, and she hissed, struggling to get back up before Harris shook himself out of the daze her kick had knocked him into.

Too late.

A large hand grabbed the top of her skull, twisting clumps of hair painfully, wrenching her to her feet. Deanna snarled wordlessly, hands flying up automatically to pry uselessly at his fat fingers. The arm gripping her swung back as he prepared to throw her, but Deanna's brain kicked in first. Her left elbow came backwards, sinking into the muscles of his stomach painfully.

Harris let out another pained grunt, fingers slackening on her scalp. Deanna twisted herself loose, feeling several hairs rip themselves from her head. Her scalp prickled in pain, but she ignored it easily, and continued to twist around. She punched Harris' side with her right fist, stepping into the movement, jolting his kidney unpleasantly.

He couldn't ignore that. He cried out in pain, stepping backwards hurriedly in order to give himself time. Deanna didn't allow it; she reached into her leather jacket, and whipped out her gun, flicking the safety off and shot the kid in the kneecaps.

Harris went down with a loud, echoing scream. Upstairs, there was a crash of a table hitting the floor, and the dull sound of a goblet rolling clumsily across the floor. Harris went abruptly slack, his scream dying off mid-note. Deanna wiped the sweat off her forehead, flicked the safety back on, and pushed her gun back into her waistband.

She looked at the kid's body for a moment, and licked her throbbing lip, tasting her own blood. Deanna turned away from him, and called up the stairs, "Ben?"

"Fine," he gasped back wearily. "I'm...fine."

Deanna climbed the stairs, ignoring the creaking warnings of old, rotting wood. She rested a hand on the butt of her gun as she entered the old library. It was a mess. The alter was a heap on the floor, spilling blood and what looked disturbingly like rabbit bones across the floor. Pages littered the room, most of them roughly torn from the witch's spell book.

Ben stood in the middle of the room, panting. Deanna stepped forward in concern when she noticed several scratches on the kid, and the bruised, unconscious form of their very own Sabrina.

"Jeez," she said, peering at them. They weren't deep, but she'd have to disinfect them. Last time Deanna had seen her, the witch had looked rabid. "What the hell happened?"

"She woke up." Ben said, rubbing at one of the scratches on his face with a displeased frown.

"I knocked her out," Deanna pointed out with a raised eyebrow. The witch had been in the middle of another ritual when they'd arrived at the creep-shack. Their arrival had managed to save another jock from a 'heart attack', but the witch had been able to call up Harris before being knocked out.

"Yeah, and when you went to kick that...guy's ass, she woke up." Ben looked at her, and raised a hand to his temple. "You have a little..."

"Oh." Deanna rubbed at the stinging part of her face, unsurprised to find a bloody smear on the back of her hand.

"It's gone."

Deanna looked around the library before her gaze finally came to rest on the unconscious teenager on the floor. She was the same age as Harris; a short little thing with thick, curly hair and sharp claws, as Ben could agree with.

An animated corpse, a witch, and a ghost. Deanna would much rather take the lion and the wardrobe next time.

It was a long story, but basically this other girl had been driven to suicide by Harris' great-grandfather and his friends, and come back for revenge. Somehow, the ghost-girl had teamed up with Lara Geller, their Sabrina, to kill the descendants of whomever responsible. Apparently, Lara had_ also _been bullied by the jock descendants for her crush on John Harris. Which made everything _a-okay_.

The ghost had been salted and burned a few hours ago, the corpse was rotting downstairs, and that left the witch.

"Ben," Deanna said. The kid looked at her uncertainly, his own eyes having drifted to the witch. "I can deal with this. Go back to the car."

Ben obeyed automatically, moving to the doorway. Halfway across the room, he paused and looked at her. The fearful shadows in his eyes made Deanna uncomfortable. "What are you going to do with her?" he asked.

Deanna cracked her neck to the side, eliciting a grimace from the kid. "Relax, buddy. I'm not going to kill her."

Ben was smart enough not to deny that he had thought so, but crafty enough to attempt to hide his relief. As if she'd be pissed at him for giving a damn. Deanna hardly relished the thought of ganking a teenage girl, freaky witch powers or not. Especially since she had two brats of her own now.

It'd been weird, beating the hell out of Harris, knowing he was only a couple of years older than Ben. It wasn't enough to stop her doing her job properly, though.

"What are you going to do about her?" the kid wondered.

"Scare her straight."

It seemed all she was doing lately was scarin' somebody straight, like one of those 'No Smoking' ads that were so frickin' popular in the nineties. Deanna supposed it was better than being the star of her own horror movie like, uh, always.

"Things might take a little while," she continued, and tried not to crack her knuckles just to see the look on his face. "And Gabriel gets pissy when he doesn't have an active audience."

Ben's eyes gave a glimmer of amusement. More progress. It'd been over a week since they'd skipped town, and the kid was handling things pretty goddamn well. Sure, sometimes he'd go quiet, and he still had nightmares to match hers- and wasn't that just _adorable_?- but Ben was a pretty resilient kid.

Most kids would have flinched at the sight of a gun after his mom's death, but the kid asked for lessons. Deanna put her parental pride on the ice, made a mental note to give him those lessons tomorrow, and put herself back into the game.

"Yeah." Ben glanced at the woman, and nodded. "You got the ghost, right?"

Deanna widened her eyes. "Uh, no. I thought you got it."

Ben barely had time to feel the first strings of horror, before she grinned. "Relax, dude. I got the bitch."

Ben's face went slack with relief, and then tight with annoyance. He glowered at her. "I hate you," he grumbled.

Deanna ruffled his hair fondly, causing him to huff at her. Ben turned, stomping out of the room, and out of the house. She glanced at the witch in time to see the teenager's eyelid flicker slightly. Deanna adjusted her stance, and brought a hand to the butt of her Glock.

"That's some recovery time you've got there," Deanna remarked, peering at the bruise on the witch's temple. It was large, and already darkening to an ugly black. The teen remained utterly still on the floor, the tense, unnatural kind of still.

"Playing possum isn't gonna work with me, sweetheart."

The witch very carefully didn't react.

"Well. You asked for it, Sabrina."

Deanna drew her gun out of her waistband, pointed it at the witch's legs, and clicked the safety off.

The teenager flinched violently, letting out an alarmed gasp. Her hands moved down to clutch at her legs. The bruises on the girl's face stood out stark on her ashen skin. Unease filled her eyes when she saw the gun, held so comfortably in Deanna's strong hands.

Sabrina swallowed nervously, glancing into Deanna's deliberately cold eyes. She sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm a witch," she murmured, a tinge of arrogance in her voice. "I could kil-"

"I can put a bullet in your brain faster than you could get the words out."

Sabrina froze at the certainty in her voice, eyeing her with growing fear. There were no chairs around, so Deanna knelt beside the kid, allowing the girl to get a better look at her hard expression.

"Listen up, kid, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. If you ever so much as cast another spell again," she raised her gun to the ceiling, and cocked a brow at the girl," you'll find yourself ass deep in Hellfire."

Lara Geller stared at her, trying to gauge how serious Deanna was. The teenager quickly came to the conclusion that she wasn't screwing around, and lost what little color she had left in her face.

"You...you can't kill me."

"I've killed witches before."

Sabrina flinched harshly at her matter-of-fact statement, but carried on after sucking in a deep breath, "I have a family. They'll wonder...and...I-"

"If the next part of your sentence has anything to do with the whole 'I did nothing wrong' schtick, you can save it. I saw that thing you made down there."

"He-" he face flushed, and her chest heaved. Her eyes flashed with a sudden conviction. "He was a _jerk_! He deser-"

The manageable fury in Deanna's chest flared out of control, and she snarled, "What? He deserved to be murdered because he pushed you around some? He deserved to be turned into a freaking _Zombie_? Tell that to _his_ family!"

The witch went white, horror sprawling across her face. Her eyes became vacant with thought, and she looked away from Deanna. Her mouth parted slightly, and she struggled for words. "I...I didn't..."

"There are a ton of people like me around the world," Deanna said unsympathetically. She rose to her feet, clicked the safety back on her Glock, and shoved it into her waistband. "Hunters. You see, we hunt demons, ghosts, sometimes zombies, and witches. Like you."

Sabrina stared up at her, the horror in her eyes began to retreat in favour of shallow, childish anger. The kid was growing confident now that her gun was tucked away. She was underestimating Deanna because of what she wasn't - a witch in this case.

Deanna was really getting pretty goddamn sick of that. If it wasn't because she was a woman- no matter how heavily armed she was, or how tall she was- it was because she was an ordinary human. Because she _wasn't_ Sam.

"What right do you have to tell me what to do?" the witch demanded angrily.

Deanna thought about kicking the witch in the face, but decided against it. She was a hunter, not a thug. And, despite what Sam had often said as a kid, there was a difference.

"I'm not telling you what to do so much as I'm warning you. You should be grateful about that, by the way," she scratched her temple absently with the gun barrel. "Most witches don't get that chance."

When Sabrina was reminded that oh, yeah, she was practically being held at gunpoint, her confidence wavered.

"I'm giving you a second chance because you're a kid." Deanna watched the kid, noticing the calculation in the kid's eyes right from the start. "You won't be so lucky next time. Couple friends of mine are going to be keepin' an eye out for you, and they aren't as nice as I am."

The witch's expression twitched, and she visibly swallowed her retort. "So," she muttered to the floor. "I stop using magic, or you're going to kill me?"

Deanna thought that over for a second, before deciding that she didn't care about the crude phrasing, and she shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"You can't do this," the witch murmured in disbelief, shaking her head. "I'm a _witch_, you can't..."

"Oh, goddamnit," Deanna groaned. She wasn't the kind of person that should be dealing with this bullshit. Sam..._Sam_ would have been great with this. Damnit. She missed Sam. "Look, kid. If you don't play nice with the other reindeer, you know what's gonna happen. Don't be dumb."

Sabrina ran a trembling hand through her hair, scanning her vaguely annoyed expression. "I don't have a choice," she realized quietly.

Deanna didn't answer. She didn't need to. She took in the witch's expression, and considered it. Deanna wasn't exactly in a fair state of mind- what with the whole _witch_ thing, and the nagging urge to make sure Gabriel wasn't convincing Ben to do something dumb, and, oh, this was her first hunt in years without Sam, which _hurt_- but she knew the kid was scared of her.

The witch felt bad, too. If the way she flipped between horror and anger was anything to go by, and Deanna knew bad coping mechanisms when she saw 'em. Deanna had never picked up a book on psychology, but she got people better than some psychologists.

Getting so little from the witch made her feel unnerved.

The witch bowed her head, hair hanging over her face. Her fingers twitched nervously, and she raised her head to look Deanna square in the eye. "Okay," she said with a quiver in her voice. "Okay. I won't do it again."

The old floorboards creaked slightly under her weight as Deanna shifted, and considered the girl's promise for a moment.

"Awesome," said Deanna, turning on her heel and walking out of the room.

"That's it?" the witch called after her.

"Yep," she muttered, clambering down the stairs. She was glad that her little 'Say no to Magic' speech was over. It'd been a while since she'd done that, her recent hunting years had been more about killing as many of the son of a bitches as she could, not trying to...teach morals to murderers, or whatever the hell she'd just done.

Deanna was almost at the bottom of the stairs before her hastiness caught up with her. The air became thick and charged with power, and Deanna twisted on her heel, drawing her gun, clicking the safety off, dropping into a crouch before the witch had even appeared, her face twisted into an ugly, snarl of pure, blackened _hatred_-

"That's _it_?" the witch screamed.

In the end, Deanna didn't hesitate. Her bullet tore through the air, ripping through Sabrina's eye, and lodging in her brain tissue. Blood impacted the walls, and the teen fell in a cloud of the sticky, red liquid. The bullet had been full of rock salt, but the eyeball popped like a grape.

For a moment, Deanna remained frozen, staring at the body, power sizzling out in the air.

A shocked, shaky breath feel from her mouth and her heart re-started abruptly, painfully. Her teeth gritted, and she glared. Her arm wavered uncertainly before dropping back to her side. She straightened up from her crouch.

Deanna clicked the safety on her gun, and shoved it back into her waistband. The hunter turned away from the kid's body, stalking down the stairs, and tried not to feel, period.

Goddamnit. She'd been willing to let the kid go, give her a second chance, despite the whole _zombie_ thing. And she'd been kinda touchy about them ever since the Croats.

Deanna hissed angrily under her breath, unable to get the brief, lingering image of worried parents- like _her_- out of her mind. She stormed out of the house in a foul mood, grinding her teeth, cursing inwardly; age before beauty, grace before graceless, anger before guilt.

It occurred to Deanna as she stormed across the large lawn that maybe if she'd been a little more patient, the witch wouldn't have flipped on her. It occurred to Deanna ten years _ago_ that having morals sucked ass.

The Impala was parked around the back of the house, hidden safely away from random civilians. The doors were wide open, and she could see the top of Gabriel's blonde-brown hair from several feet away. He was in the back seat, and his head was ducked over something.

As Deanna neared her car, the sound of her daughter's high, echoing cries reached her ears, hitting some deep, instinctual part of her. Deanna turned her stalk into a near-run, and clambered into the backseat. Mary was in Gabriel's arms, and he was making a supposedly soothing sound.

"Thank God," Ben said to her, relieved. He was crouching on the other side of Gabriel with his fingers in his ears. His scratches had been healed. Gabriel was developing a soft spot for him.

"She won't stop crying," Gabriel grimaced, and carefully passed Mary to her. The moment Mary was in her arms, he disappeared with the sound of fluttering wings; the coward.

Deanna began to rock her child automatically, ducking her head to meet Mary's eyes. Her daughter's face was flushed, and all screwed up, soft hiccupping sobs left her mouth. The sight caused a deep, pained ache in Deanna's chest, somehow worse than half of the things Alistair had done to her.

Ben slid across the space between them, and dabbed gently at the spit on her kid's face because he was awesome like that.

"How long has she been like this?" Deanna demanded.

"Not long," Ben responded when Mary's face was dry. "She... just started _screaming_."

"Damnit," Deanna hissed in frustration. She hated to hear the misery in her little brat's voice. She closed her eyes, and tried to remember Sam's early months, and how their mom had soothed him.

Vague snippets of a nursery rhyme buzzed around her head, but she could only remember every other word, and she wasn't much for singing, anyway.

Deanna opened her eyes when the infant's screams began to lessen. Mary was staring up at her with watering blue eyes, her mouth scrunched up, and she seemed to _peer _into Deanna's mind. Deanna stared back into her daughter's intense eyes with a pricking sense of unease.

Until Mary fell silent apart from making a soft, sniffling sound as she wriggled against Deanna's chest. The infant continued to stare up at her with her large blue eyes. It took a moment before Deanna could tear her eyes away.

Ben dropped the cloth with a relieved expression. "Guess she missed you," he supposed.

"Yeah." Deanna passed Mary to Ben, and waited a moment. When her daughter remained settled, she climbed out of the backseat, slamming the door behind her, and got into the driver's seat.

"Buckle up," Deanna instructed.

Ben laid Mary on his lap, leaned over slightly to yank the door shut, and obeyed her by bucking his seatbelt. As Deanna started the car up, and began to drive away from the house, Ben cradled Mary in his arms, and began murmuring to her in a low voice.

Wings rustled, and Gabriel appeared in the passenger. He looked slightly distracted, and whatever he was distracted by troubled him.

"Wow," Deanna frowned at him. "Who the hell ate _your_ puppy?"

Gabriel looked at her; his amber eyes were still in a way that unnerved her. "My brothers," he muttered, "are all dicks."

"Yeah." Deanna made a gesture with her hand. "So?"

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at his niece, and Deanna realized whom he was talking about. _Cas_. Cas was being a dick.

Deanna thumped the steering wheel, and cleared her throat uncomfortably. Damnit, even his _name_ got to her. What the hell was wrong with her? Sure, Cas was more than the other people she'd jumped into bed with over the years, but, damnit, she hated how he made her feel.

There was that little flip in her stomach, and that shot of anger, followed by hurt which never died no matter how ruthlessly she squashed it. And that wasn't even the half of it.

"Does he, uh, know?" she glanced at Mary pointedly.

Gabriel shook his head, mouth drawn tight. "I can't tell him, and the bastard is too stubborn to listen to any hints."

Like Cas, Gabriel had been dragged out of...wherever the hell destroyed angels went, by his Daddy. Unfortunately, the son of a bitch had prevented Gabriel from mentioning Mary to Cas. Or so they assumed, judging by the fact that Gabriel ended up speechless every time he tried to say anything about her.

Deanna blew out a breath, and tried to come of as ironic rather than hurt. "Wow. Guess he really doesn't want to see me, huh?"

"The kid doesn't know about..." his eyes flickered to the rear view mirror with an unusual amount of tact before he continued, "...what happened. He doesn't think you want to see him."

Deanna's eyes widened, and Gabriel nodded. "I think Luci scrambled his brains or something," he rolled his eyes.

Deanna grimaced to herself, forcing her eyes back to the road, shaking her head. That wasn't it. The last few months had been pretty...rough, what with him falling and, well, the whole Michael thing. She'd said some pretty...ruthless things between being picked up by Angel-Air from that motel room and banishing him.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Cas had been acting pretty subdued around her afterwards. Deanna had figured it was because he'd fallen, or that maybe he was still pissed at her for trying to say yes.

Her stomach curdled with guilt, and she gritted her teeth. Goddamnit. Her emotional constipation came back to bite her in the ass. Again.

Not that she regretted those months at Lisa's, beyond the fact that it'd gotten her killed, but Mary should know her dad at least.

"Onto less grim subjects," Gabriel raised his voice cheerily, switch from gloomy to hyperactive within seconds, "I've found another hunt for you."

"What do you think, Ben?" Deanna glanced back at the kid, who was thankfully oblivious to their previous conversation. "Ready for another hunt so soon?"

"Will you still teach me how to use a gun tomorrow?" he asked instantly.

Deanna shook her head slightly at him. "Yeah, sure, kid."

Ben looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding. "Sounds good," he offered.

"Okay, then," Deanna said. "What are we dealin' with?"

Gabriel smirked at her, his eyebrows quirking up at her in a way that reminded her unsettlingly of TV-Land. "Oh. I'm sure it won't take you long to figure that out all by yourself! Besides I wouldn't want to spoil the hunt for you."

As Gabriel's teeth flashed in a fierce smile, Deanna rolled her eyes, and returned her eyes to the road.

* * *

A few hours later, Deanna reassembled her gun in quick, brisk movements that spoke of familiarity. The motel room was quiet, except for the sound of Ben's quiet breathing and the clinks of metal on metal. It had been a while since she'd done this, but it wasn't as if she'd forgotten how.

"Since when do you go looking for hunts?" Deanna demanded.

Gabriel sat across from her, and rolled his eyes. His fingers flickered slightly, and a strawberry milkshake appeared in his hands. He slurped at it nosily, eyeing her.

A little over a year ago, she would've been trying to ram a stake through his chest while he leered at her, chatting inanely. It was weird how things had changed. Gabriel still leered and babbled, but she didn't try to kill him anymore- well, not _really_.

"I can't tell you," Gabriel grumbled sullenly.

Deanna raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh, why not?"

Gabriel's hand rose, and he pointed up at the sky.

Deanna paused, eyes going skyward. "Cas?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "It's sweet how focused you are on him, Dee-Dee, but really?" he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "As if the little one could stop me saying _anything_. No," he shook his head, finger jabbing upwards. "Dear old Dad put another gag on me."

"What an asshole."

Gabriel sucked on his milkshake nosily, and nodded. His eyes were oddly serious when he looked at her. "I've just found out about this one."

"Goddamnit," Deanna grunted. "So Daddy slaps a curse on you, and you can't say jacksquat."

"Hey, now," Gabriel drawled in his high-pitched voice, gesturing with an open palm. "There's no need to rub it in."

Deanna ignored him, and carried on. "Why?" she said, building up steam."What's so important to him about Mary never getting to meet her dad? I know he was all down on the whole half-and-half thing before..."

Deanna wasn't sure how to finish that sentence without swearing loud enough to wake half the motel, so she cut it off prematurely. She scrubbed at her face angrily.

She could almost get why Gabriel ditched his family, if this was the shit he'd had to put up with as a winglet or whatever. His brothers were all arrogant dicks and his dad was a sadistic ass.

"Down," Gabriel scoffed, buffing his nails on his shirt. "Daddy was a bit more than 'down' on it."

"Not the point," Deanna sidestepped a reply, waving the subject away. "What's up with gagging you?"

"Well. I _don't know_," Gabriel said, a sharp note of irritation in his voice. One of Deanna's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Maybe it's a punishment for running away. Just go to Minneapolis, and _deal _with this mother."

Deanna glanced away, an unpleasant twist to her lips. Minneapolis wasn't that far from South Dakota. It wasn't like she was worried about running into Bobby, but...she worried about the old guy sometimes, and he was like a father to her. Even if she hadn't told him about her kid. It made sense, in a Winchester way.

Getting Bobby involved now while Ben was going quietly crazy, her DNA was doing a swan dive, and Crowley was all over their asses didn't sit right with her. Besides the thought of Bobby and Gabriel meeting made her feel a vague sense of foreboding.

"That's a few days drive," she commented for lack of any better arguments.

Gabriel reached across the table, and patted her arm forcefully. Deanna punched the back of his hand in response, glowering across the table. Memories of the last time he'd touched her made her skin crawl in a guilty kind of horror.

"Well, then," Gabriel settled back in his chair with a smug smirk. "I guess you'll have lots of time to teach the kid how to shoot straight."

* * *

A muffled gunshot echoed quietly through the middle of nowhere, and the gun jerked in Ben's hands.

The dust whirled around Deanna's boots as she balanced Mary in her arms, leaning against the open trunk of her car. The infant squinted distastefully at the sun, unbothered by the sound, and buried her face into the crook of Deanna's neck.

Her tiny fingers rubbed Deanna's shirt clumsily, and she let out a soft, pleased sound that made Deanna's lips quirk up slightly. Deanna rested her cheek against the top of her daughter's head, and observed Ben.

He stood a couple of feet away. Pressing his feet firmly into the dirt, his balance wavered slightly. He was gripping a 40 revolver with a silencer. It was the weakest gun in Deanna's armoury; the least likely to knock Ben on his ass.

The air quivered from his last shot but the beer can remained whole and intact on the pile of rocks it sat upon. The bullet lodged in the ground, several feet from the can.

Slowly, Ben's shoulders slumped. He clicked the safety back on the gun, and turned to her. His short legs ate up the space between them until he was standing in front of her.

"I can't hit the can," Ben told her.

Deanna rolled her eyes. "Of course not. What?" she added at his expression. "You expected to get it right away?"

"I don't know," Ben mumbled, shrugging his shoulder self-consciously.

"Put the gun back," she ordered him. "We can try again tomorrow."

Ben obeyed, traces of uncertainty clinging to his posture. He took Mary from Deanna's arms so she could close the secret compartment. Deanna grabbed a few bottles of holy water before she closed the trunk, and placed the bottles on the back end.

Ben watched her in confusion, absently gripping Mary's hand, causing the baby to coo softly at him. Deanna pulled the pocket of water balloons she'd brought from a gas station out of her pocket, unscrewed the cap, pushed the water balloon onto the top of the bottle, and turned it upside down.

When the balloon was full of holy water, Deanna removed the bottle, and tied the balloon. One summer about a decade and a half ago, she and Sammy had thought this up. She'd always tied the balloons up because Sammy had been one clumsy kid. Then, their dad had come home with half of his skull caved in, water ballons had been the last thing on their minds.

Deanna shoved that memory to the back of her mind, ignoring the dizzying combination of feelings the brief flash of nostalgia provoked. She tightened the knot with her teeth, and looked down into Ben's baffled eyes.

He was gaping at her in disbelief. Deanna swapped the water balloon for Mary, grinning toothily at him.

"Until then you can use the holy water balloon."

* * *

Deanna's dark blond hair was pulled up in an elegant bun she was only capable of doing when she wasn't paying attention- an annoying habit from the days when the angels had mind-raped her into becoming Deanna Smith- and she probably looked as ridiculous as she felt in the dark skirt, and honest-to-God _heels_.

It made her feel uncomfortable, like when she'd been a kid and tried on her mom's make-up. It was wrong, and she hated it, but she was doing it anyway because Mary had spit up on her less girly suit pants.

It was for the case Gabriel couldn't - or _wouldn't_- say anything about. Deanna was trying to avoid her own thoughts as she walked into the police station; of killing that witch, and of the last time she'd done this, pretended to be from the FBI.

The secretary took one look at Deanna's FBI badge, barely listened to her explanation of why she was there (the Jenkins family had been torn apart and chewed on by a huge, unusually focused bear, seen and described as a monster by the only surviver, a little girl) before leading her into the police lieutenant's office.

Lieutenant Wilson was a few inches taller than her when he rose from his chair, and moved around his desk to greet her. His arms were thick with muscle, and he was getting on in the years, but his eyes were sharp, and his hand was firm as he shook hers.

"Lieutenant Wilson, I'm Agent Hendricks," she reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled out her fake ID. Deanna held it up from him to see. "I'm from the FBI."

His brown eyes flickered over her ID quickly before returning to her face, glinting with suspicion. "I've already spoken to the FBI."

Deanna paused in the midst of replacing her badge, and her brain skidded to a halt. "I'm sorry?" she cleared her throat awkwardly. "You've already spoken to..."

Her mind kick started, and whirled away. There was no way the FBI would actually come down to investigate a case like this. A couple of years ago maybe, as a trap for her and Sam, but they'd been declared dead a while back, so what? Another hunter? Most hunters didn't bother going to the trouble she and Sam di- _had_, but it wasn't impossible.

Deanna recovered from her surprise, and plastered a polite smile to her mouth. "Could you describe these men for me?"

"Why?" Wilson asked mistrustfully.

"Well. There could have been a mix-up back at the home office," Deanna started. "Or we're dealing with a fake. Now, what did these men look like, and what did they want?"

Lieutenant Wilson stared at her for a long moment, judging her impassive face but intentionally unnerved eyes. After a moment, he sat back at his desk, and gestured for her to take a seat.

With an internal sigh of relief, Deanna did so.

"Two guys; one of them was pretty old, and the other was young. The young guy was taller than I am with brown hair and eyes. Now that I think about it, he was acting strangely. Real twitchy, pretty goddamn rude, too." Wilson looked her over carefully, eyes lingering on her legs and her hair.

"My apologies. I wouldn't normally swear around a lady," the son of a bitch added gruffly.

Deanna's temper flared, and she bit her tongue before she could start swearing viciously enough to show exactly whose kid she was. Fucking rednecks. She was nobody's lady, goddamnit. But the nagging urge to avoid going to jail again kept her curses silent.

"What about the old guy?" Deanna was incapable of keeping the curtness out of her tone.

"He was trying to keep the younger guy in line, but I don't remember much about them," Lieutenant Wilson's large shoulders moved in a shrug. "They disappeared pretty soon after." He watched her for a moment. "You know 'em?"

"I think so," Deanna said. "Were they here about the Jenkins case?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Asking all sorts of question about it." Wilson shook his head in disbelief. "There was nothing suspicious about the case; an open and shut bear attack."

"I didn't know they got bears around here," Deanna said idly.

"We don't usually. Must have come a long way from somewhere else. I've got some of my best men on it." Lieutenant Wilson met her eyes, and searched her face. "You sure about those guys, Agent Hendricks?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. I'm sorry for wasting your time." Deanna figured she could always pump the other hunters for information, and stood up. Her temper was running high from that lady comment, and it was best she left before she ended up flooring the dude.

Wilson rose with her. "You need any help?"

"No. I just need to straighten things out, and then I'll probably be re-assigned. Though, if you could give me a way to contact the other agents, it would save a lot of time."

"Sure," Wilson searched his desk quickly. "I think they were staying at a motel somewhere close by." It took him a moment, but he found address, and handed it to her.

A short while later, Deanna slid into her car, and slammed the door shut behind her. She dropped the piece of paper onto the dashboard, and grabbed her boots from the vacant seat beside her.

Deanna kicked her black heals off, and tugged her dusty boots back on, not caring how strange it looked. Then, she reached up and yanked her hair down out of the weird bun, ruffling her hair until she stopped looking like Deanna Smith.

The radio started playing 'Highway to Hell' when she slid the keys in, and she turned the song up until she felt like herself again. Deanna drove out of the parking lot, and back to her motel.

She wanted to check up on Ben and Mary before locating the motel where the other hunters were staying. Besides, she needed to get the hell away from the skirt she was wearing before the urge to punch herself in the face became impossible to ignore.

* * *

"More hunters?" Ben said, brow furrowing. He was sitting on her bed with his legs crossed, staring at Deanna as she adjusted her tank top with relief. It was good to be out of that skirt, and back into her own skin.

"Looks like it," she said. Deanna bent slightly at the waist, and pulled Mary into her arms. The infant grabbed a clumsy fistful of her hair, gurgling quietly. "How's she been?"

"Missed you again," Ben told her, and the bed sheet rustled as he slid to his feet. "But she calmed down after a little while. I've been taking care of her."

Deanna looked at him with a frown, hearing the small amount of defensiveness in his voice. Ben crossed his arms, and stared steadily back. Not taking her eyes from Ben, she laid Mary down on the bed, and gave him her full attention.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. What's up?"

Ben stared at her stubbornly, but his earnest attempt couldn't hold a candle to what the Winchester family came by genetically. Ben looked away first, glancing down at his shoes. His eyes flickered up to hers briefly before he spoke in a quiet, little kid's voice; "Other hunters?"

"Yeah," Deanna replied with a confused expression. She thought about Ben's defensiveness, and other hunters, and came up blank. "Why're you so worried about other hunters?"

Ben didn't know much about Crowley, only enough to make him wary, not paranoid, and she doubted he thought about demon possession a lot considering what happened to Lisa (fucking Meg, she should have made her suffer). So, what? If he wasn't worried about a possessed hunter trying to snag Mary, what was bothering him?

Ben's eyes flickered to her face, and away again. "It's stupid," he huffed, stalling for time. "But...those hunters, who...shot you? Are there more that want to...kill you?"

Deanna blinked once at that. The kid was worried about _her_? As it sank in, and she rocked back on her heels in surprise. Deanna's facial expression shifted incredulously. "Dude..."

"I know!" Ben hissed under his breath, turning away from her, stalking a few paces away, wound tightly. "I _know _you can take care of yourself but-! _But _I don't know if you've noticed, but you and Mary are kind of all I have left!"

Ben's words pierced her armour like bullets, and Deanna reeled backwards. Holding up her hands for a crease fire, Deanna cut him off there. "Kid..." she started, and thought better of it. "_Ben_."

Deanna halted uncertainly, and crossed the room, stopping a few paces from him. She crouched beside him, and gripped his shoulders tightly. "I get it," Deanna said. "But...what happened with those assholes was a rare thing."

Ben didn't look at her, but he nodded. She squeezed his shoulders, uncertain of how to reassure him. Saying that Walt and his buddy were the only hunters after her ass would be a lie, and she was trying to be a good parent stand-in.

"I'm going to be fine," she added forcefully. Ben's brown eyes rose haltingly from the floor, and he met her eyes. His eyeballs seemed to tremble as he looked at her, full of wavering courage and nervous affection. "I _promise_ I'll be around long enough to improve on your lousy aim."

The expression of mingled worry and amusement on Ben's face stayed with her through the drive to the other motel, and the climb up the steps. Deanna paused in front of the motel door, shoving the scrap of paper with the other hunter's details into her pocket.

Deanna's fist rose and fell, she stiffened a curse. On the inside of her eyelids, Ben's brown eyes pleaded with her to stay in the motel room. Goddamn puppy eyes. Deanna shoved the image to the back of her mind, and focused on the door in front of her.

Deanna rapped her knuckles loudly on the door, and suppressed the memories floating to the forefront of her mind. She was gonna have a little chat with Ben about not distracting her when she was on a case.

"We don't need room service," a man's voice shouted, prompting Deanna to roll her eyes. It was vaguely familiar, bringing an image of Samuel Campbell to her mind.

"Well, I'm not room service!" Deanna called back.

There was a pause, and the sound of muffled voices. Deanna assumed they were packing any stray weapons away, and tried to wait patiently. Deanna waited in bored silence, allowing her gaze to drift around the empty hallway.

She caught a brief glance at her reflection in a window; her green eyes were bored, her dark blond hair looked golden in the retreating sunlight, and her mouth was a lush pink. Her features were clear and attractive. Deanna liked the way she looked, and her lips curved up in deserved vanity.

Having a baby hadn't really changed her body all that much, as Gabriel liked to observe, so, really, was a little pride such a bad thing?

The motel door opened. Deanna looked away from the window, and into her baby brother's brown eyes for the first time since he'd fallen into the pit.

Deanna's mood flipped in an instant, and her brain took itself out cleanly, leaving her staring in stark shock at the man in front of her, standing so casually in the fucking doorway as if he was supposed to be there, and not being tortured in Hell like in her nightmares,

Sam Winchester smiled sheepishly at her, looking remarkably healthy for a dead man. "Hi, Deanna."


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture. A tragic lack of Cas in the first few chapters.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

**This is the unbeta'd version of this chapter, so bare with me, please? I will replace it with the beta'd one as soon as I get it in. Until, then, try not to let your eyes bleed.**

* * *

Deanna's eyes reacted on instinct, flickering over him frantically, searching for any injuries or whatever. She _knew-_- knew and fucking _believed_ with everything in her- that this wasn't her baby brother but that didn't change the fact that every inch of her very being urged her to act, to grab him, and hug him so tightly that he'd have to deal with fractured ribs, and she'd have to put up with his bitching.

Until things were their fucked up version of normal again.

It couldn't be him. If Sam had come back, he'd have come to her, and she wouldn't have stumbled into him on the edge of fucking Minneapolis. No matter what her instincts told her, it wasn't Sam. For a moment, Deanna wondered if someone had brought him back, like Cas had her, but she dismissed it abruptly.

There was no one with enough power to pull Sam out of the cage who gave a crap. Hell, Death had encouraged her to let him fall into the pit.

But goddamnit- _goddamnit_- it was a good fake; it looked exactly like her Sammy. Deanna knew every square inch of him; every freckle, every birth mark, every scar because she'd been there for just about every one of them, and every single inch of skin on this..._thing_ was an exact copy of Sammy.

Her chest seemed to fracture, and bone-deep agony poured through the cracks, filling her completely. And then, her temper ignited in a flash of white-hot fury, burning until it was blue, and then adding gasoline until the world was turning to ash. It rocked through her with such a blazing intensity that she could almost ignore how much thinking of Sam killed her.

Sam's smile faded from his face at her silence. "Deanna," he said, worry filling his face. It didn't look quite right. "Why aren't you with Lisa? What are you doing her-"

Deanna stirred all of her fury up, closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him, and struck out, punching him in the nose. There was a sharp crack, and _Sammy _cried out in pain, big feet stumbling backwards. Exactly like it happened in her nightmares, only she wasn't the cause of his pain. Most of the time.

Her fist must have hurt, and the blood must have been warm, but Deanna couldn't feel it as she opened her eyes, shoved the Not-Sammy into the motel room, and slammed the door shut. His hands were to his face, and his eyes were wide and shocked, blood leaked from his nose, staining his fingers.

The fury rose up inside of her, and she grabbed a fistful of his plaid shirt, hurling his 6'5 body into the nearest object with a snarl of rage. The nearest object turned out to be a wall, and she slammed Not-Sammy into it with enough force that the ceiling shook, his eyes rolled in his head, and a picture from the other side of the room fell to the floor with the sound of shattering glass.

She jolted her wrist in a deliberate movement, and a silver knife slid down her arm, into her hand. Deanna raised it, pressing it to Not-Sammy's throat. Bile rushed to her mouth at the sight, and she forced it back down, trying not to show her waver.

"Deanna-" Sam's eyes were wide, and his mouth was parted with disbelief.

Deanna really fucking wished her fury was an all-consuming blaze, because, shit, it _hurt_. Hearing him say her name, hearing...it hurt, it hurt a lot, fuck, she couldn't kill this thing when it looked like her little _brother_.

"What the hell?" she snarled at him, so harsh that she sounded like their- like her dad after a couple shots of whiskey.

"Deanna, put the knife down."

Deanna swore internally, glancing at the man hovering in the corner of her eyes; he looked exactly like Samuel Campbell. Well, crap. Was her dad gonna pop out of the bathroom next, holding hands with her mom?

No. This was a trick, a shapeshifter of some kind, not a Djinn mind-rape.

The hair on the back of her neck rose as Samuel stepped forward with his hand raised in a seemingly placating gesture. It pissed Deanna off even more.

She made a quick estimate of how close he was, and turned sharply towards the man, removing the knife-holding arm from Not-Sammy's throat, slashing it through the air as she moved. Samuel Campbell recoiled as the silver blade nicked his skin, blood welling up from the cut.

Not-Sam jerked under her arms, trying to move forward, but Deanna slammed him back against the wall, and returned the knife to his throat, not quite looking at him.

"Deanna," Not-Sam gasped. "It's me. I swear. Put the knife down, and I'll explain everything."

"How about I don't," Deanna said furiously, glancing between the two, a hard look in her eyes. "And you tell me what's going on anyway? And, if I don't like it, I'll kill your worthless asses."

"Deanna-"

Samuel cut Not-Sam off with a shake of his head, and even though it wasn't really her Sam, it brought a bitter aftertaste to Deanna's mouth. Way back when, she'd sometimes wondered if Sam would have respected her more if she'd been born Dean.

"We don't exactly know what happened," Sam said, drops of his own blood falling into his mouth. "I remember falling into the pit after..." Sam swallowed, eyes flickering down. He remembered Lucifer bending her over the Impala and smashing her face in. "Next thing I know, I'm laying in that field in the rain."

The knife in Deanna's hand wavered. Her grip was sweaty, it almost slipped.

Sam's eyes flickered to the knife, seeing her hesitation, and pouncing on it. "When I was five, on, uh, _Mother's Day_... I decided that since I didn't have a mom, I'd have a big Sister's Day instead. I made you a card, and you made me swear not to tell dad."

Her arm slowly fell back to her side, and she stared at him with a stunned expression. She still had one of those cards, at Bobby's. The first one, clumsy and covered in way too much pink glitter, but it'd mattered, so she'd kept it. It was...stupid, but, yeah.

One of the cards could have been found, scattered across the states, because she'd lost a few, but he'd been five when he'd made the first one, and there was nothing on any of the cards to suggest that beyond his sloppy hand-writing.

"I'll prove it to you," Sam said, wiggling out of her loosened grip, and sliding away from the wall to stand beside her. Deanna turned to face him automatically. "Can I borrow-" she handed the knife to him silently, and warily backed off a little.

"Thanks," Sam said with a slight smile. He rolled up his plaid shirt, and dragged the knife across his skin. Blood welled up, and he rolled his sleeve back down. Sam handed the knife back to her.

Deanna accepted the knife back absently, staring at him intently.

"It's me," Sam swore, meeting her eyes.

From the pit of her stomach, a wave of utter relief rose up inside of her, and she felt her tension drain away. Her breathing hitched, and she shook her head mindlessly to herself. All of her anger and suspicion was obliterated in a storm of wild relief. She forgot Samuel, and Mary, and Ben, and everything other than her brother.

Deanna grinned, so wide and relieved that some of her hidden dimples became visible.

"Sam," she muttered, stepping forward. Her eyes drank him in with a new purpose; he looked more untroubled than she'd seen him in years. Healthy, except for the blood leaking from his nose.

Deanna was too relieved to feel bad about that as she leaned forward, and hugged him, throwing everything into it. Her grip was nothing short of crushing. Sam's arms came around her, and he squeezed back tightly.

Deanna closed her eyes, and breathed his familiar, calming scent in. The 10 month long unsteadiness in her stomach was notable in its sudden absence, a weight dropped off her shoulders.

"You're crushing me," Sam warned her, a couple of seconds later.

"Bite me," Deanna replied, but she let go, and looked at him again, unable to stop grinning. She wanted to pull him into another hug, her overcompensating masculine pride be damned. "How the hell did this happen?"

"We don't know," Samuel answered, drawing her eyes away from Sam. He smiled tightly at her, sizing her up. "You look an awful lot like your mother."

Deanna considered arguing with that, because she really didn't, but the violent collision of guilt and pain in his eyes gave her pause. "Thanks," she said instead, glancing between them.

"I tried praying to Cas," Sam said, causing Deanna to stiffen.

"Oh, yeah?" she said in her best netural tone. "What did he say?"

"He didn't respond at all." Sam looked agitated, and his huge form began to move. He half-turned away from her, scowling at the ceiling. "I spent weeks praying to him, trying to turn up any new leads on how this happened, but- nothing. So, we have no idea."

Sam turned back to her, but it was Samuel who put a hand on her shoulder, and enquired, in a tone of concern; "Deanna?"

"Weeks?" Deanna demanded when her voice returned to her, her stomach sinking in horror. She was suddenly certain that she didn't want to know, that this was going to hurt. "Weeks? Goddamnit, Sam. How long have you two been back?"

Sam hesitated, studying her expression. Suddenly, Deanna noticed how different his eyes were, lacking his natural warmth. And his movements were slightly... off. He'd been in Hell, and that changed everything about a person, but that didn't stop his choice from smarting.

"Round about...ten months," Samuel supplied. Deanna's head snapped around, and she stared at the old man's face. Samuel's eyes lingered on Sam for a moment, before he met her eyes.

"This whole time?" she demanded, glaring at them both. "Why the hell didn't you come find me?"

Sam rolled his eyes condesendingly. "Because you were happy, Deanna." His tone was arrogant in its assumption that he knew better than her, and it sparked Deanna's rage. "I saw you with Lisa and Ben. I didn't want to ruin that for you."

"Lisa's dead," Deanna cut him off abruptly, shaking off Samuel's hand, and backing away from them both. "Meg possessed her, and made her blow her fucking brains out all over the walls."

Sam's face twisted in a gross imitation of sympathy, and Samuel looked away from her, hand rising to rub at his face.

"Deanna, I'm sor-"

"Don't," she barked, shaking her head angrily. "I mean, what the hell, Sam? Did you lose the ablity to send a text message when you came back or what?"

"Look-" Sam began, rolling his eyes, dismissing her fury. Deanna couldn't handle it, all of a sudden. The betrayal, the fury, the disappointment, and the sickening relief rolled together, and settled uncomfortably on her chest.

"I-" Deanna was startled when she realised what she needed; time away from him, her brother. Goddamnit, what the hell was wrong with her? Her brother was back from the grave, and she wanted to get the hell away from him. Just- just for a little while. Until she could breath evenly.

The fuck was _wrong_ with her? She shouldn't- it was _Sam_, her dorky kid brother, and he was back, but he'd lied to her, and fuck, what the hell was going on here? She could kinda understand Sam being back -what with all of the good he'd done, it made sense that he wouldn't be left to rot in hell- but why Samuel? Why now?

It was looking more and more like the kind of plan that was going to bite them all in the ass.

"You know what? I have to go," Deanna announced in a forceful voice, brushing past Sam and Samuel, ripping the motel door open, and runnin- _retreating_ in a hurried manner down the hallways, to the stairs. "I'll call or somethin'."

"Deanna!" Samuel called loudly after her, but she didn't turn.

Deanna knew that if she even stopped for a moment, she'd lose her bottle, and run back to Sam, but she clung to the flames of her fury, lost herself in the haze until she found herself frozen in front of the Impala.

A thousand bolts of electricity raced up her body, and white-hot sparks of pain sank into her system. Her heart felt like it had been smashed by a mallet. Iron bands tightened around her ribcage, and her gag reflex spasmed.

Deanna stumbled forward, clutching the roof of her car, submerged in Sam's betrayal. She rested her forehead against the cool metal, and breathed unsteadily. Sam had deliberately kept her in the dark about this, and it was like a pack of hellhounds were working her over again.

Unable to control her own muscles, Deanna vomited onto the pavement next to the Impala. Staring down at a mess that could easily be blamed on Sam, she climbed into the car, threw the gear into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot.

Wiping the corner of her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket, Deanna glanced around the interior for something to distract herself from whatever the hell just happened at the motel. Sam. Samuel. Ten months of deception, lies and a life that she was not included in sat bitter in her mouth.

Also, there was the lingering taste of bile. Nasty. She shuffled the papers around in the glove box, keeping her eyes on the road, as she searched for her emergency flask—in case of, well, situations like this. Nothing. Groping down under the drivers seat, she was rewarded with an empty bottle of whiskey.

"Oh, Jack. Where'd you go when I needed you?" Deanna sighed. "Fuck."

She swung the Impala around abruptly, remembering a tavern on the other side of the motel, maybe five blocks away. Glancing back at the motel as she sped by only taunted her more, and caused her to stomp down on the accelerator.

_What the hell? Sam's back, Samuel's kicking around again and where the fuck is Cas? _Deanna thought, raging._ That feathery douchebag has to know something about how those two were sprung from their hereafters. At least I'm not the only one he's ignoring._

The door to the tavern flew open with her angry shove, and she glanced around the room. It was smoky. Too goddamn smoky. Hadn't this state outlawed smoking in bars yet? Christ. She strode up to the bar, slapped down a twenty and ground out, "Jack. Straight."

Sizing her up, the barman filled the shot glass. He raised an eyebrow as she threw it back and slammed it down in seconds. "Another," she exhaled harshly. "How much for the bottle?"

* * *

Deanna was starting to loosen up a bit. Feeling slightly warm, she shrugged off her jacket and set it on the stool beside her. She'd slowed down with the shots, enjoying the burn as the whiskey ran down her throat. There was something familiar about whiskey, the way it wormed its way inside, making the mouth water and the stomach warm. The way it was cooling and smoky, woodsy and crisp all at the same time.

Just looking at the glass comforted Deanna. This is what she remembered; this is what she knew. She was finally feeling that she was back in known territory again. This was her turf, and she'd missed playing this game.

She turned around on her stool to check out the clientele and immediately wished she hadn't. From across the room she spotted the telltale sign of the leering jackass. A breed not unfamiliar to Deanna, and found across the country. She could spot them from a mile  
away, and this one looked like trouble. She kept her gaze moving across the crowd, and finding no other threats, she returned to her companion for the night.

Deanna had always held her liquor better than most girls, but she was feeling pleasantly buzzed by the time her seventh shot sailed down her throat, making her throat and chest burn. Her mind drifted, caught in the backwash of a million thoughts, all skating around the issue of Sam.

When the thought of Sam did enter her mind, Deanna briskly poured herself another shot of whiskey, and tossed it back like it was nothing. She basked in the painful burn, and tried to pretend that was why her chest hurt.

Deanna didn't get why she'd pulled a Gabriel, and bolted. She didn't run from anything; not the Devil, not a room full of gods, not awkward family situations like this. She ran from friends gained from a music store, and houses with names carved into the deck, and blood-splattered walls.

Deanna clenched her eyes shut as the burn in her chest increased. Seconds later, she opened them, and poured herself another shot, tossing it back, savoring the burn. She was thinking, now. Time for another distraction.

Deanna glanced around the bar. It was a pretty seedy bar, and quite a few guys were looking at her, less obvious than the leering jerk from before. Automatically, Deanna's eyes found the sleezy-looking dude, talking to a blonde more out of her top than in it. He was watching her intently as she gestured with her hands, laughing at her own joke, preening under his stare.

Deanna poured herself another shot glass, unsure of exactly why she was still watching the two, but put it up to her instincts. Her shot froze half-way to her mouth when she saw the sleezeball subtly slipping a little white pill into the blonde's sparkly pink drink.

She processed this, tossing her shot back, sliding off the bar stool and pulling her jacket back on. She rolled her shoulders, and walked up behind the blonde woman just as she was lifting the drink to her mouth.

Deanna slapped the drink out of her hands, and punched the guy outta his seat, sending him crashing into the dude a few stools down. They toppled off their bar stools, and onto the floor with twin cries of pain.

"Jesus, lady!" the shocked woman cried in a thick, southern drawl. She started to rise from her seat in concern, eyes wide with outrage. "What's your problem?"

"You ordered-" Deanna squinted at the pink...thing on the floor, and couldn't identify it, "- that pink crap on the floor, not a Roofie Rollover."

"W-what?" the busty chick demanded in a high, shrieking voice that immediately pissed Deanna off.

The leering jackass stumbled to his feet with a groan. His lip was busted, and already swelling unattractively. He took one look at Deanna, and swung for her in a fury. Deanna grinned, side-stepping the blow with ease.

"C'mon," she jeered belligerently. "Do you have to drug all of your girls before you can hit anything or-"

The sleezy son of a bitch wasn't a big guy, shorter than Cas, but he was faster than he let on, and he was a lot stronger then she'd assumed. Taking advantage of her gloating, the guy lunged forward, and landed a rattling blow on the side of her jaw.

The force behind his fist made her reel backwards, the small of her back crashing into the bar. The brutal, blunt pain assalted her senses, the taste of iron kicked off a wave of adrenaline, and she grinned through the pain of her throbbing jaw.

Deanna was distantly aware of the blond chick backing away as she pushed off the bar. The bastard looked her over with a scowl, opening his mouth to speak. Deanna hit him hard and fast in the gut, winding him. She brought her elbow back as he staggered with a wheeze of shock, and smashed it into his cheekbone.

Not hard enough to break, but enough to bruise like a bitch.

The guy jerked violently, twitching like a fish outta water before retreating as quickly as he could, clutching his stomach, watching her with wary eyes. Deanna moved away from the bar, shaking off the pain in her jaw. They circled each other for a moment until the air was heavy with tension, and a grin was splitting her face in contrast to the uncertainty on his.

"Why don't you go on home, lady?" he hid his uncertainty behind a proud sneer.

Deanna shook her head laughingly, teeth flashing in a clear taunt. "It takes more than a pathetic limp dick like you to get me moving."

Fury replaced his uncertainty, but her fist still flew first, skimming his cheek, stubble scraping against her knuckles. He grabbed her wrist, and started to twist, but she belted him in the nose with her other hand. He recoiled with a shout, and she followed with another punch to the face, backing him into a corner, forcing him to react.

The dude caught her arm in a bruising grip before she could land her next blow, fury burning hot in his eyes, and swung her backwards to gain momentum before hurling her into the bar.

Deanna's legs slammed into the bar stools, destroying what little balance she could have kept, and she tumbled half-over the bar top. Her breath escaped her lungs in a pained woosh, and she choked on it, coughing. She didn't wait to get her breath back before going to slid off the bar top.

A rough hand grabbed her hair, and slammed her face into the bar. Deanna shouted in pain, unprepared for it, cursing violently. Her face throbbed violently, and she started to bleed from the inside of her cheek, from her lip, and from her nose.

The hand yanked her hair again, and her face collided with the bar again. The entire left side of her face felt like it was doused in gasoline, being set on fire.

"Fuck," she snarled. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a beer bottle not far from her face. The beer was sloshing around inside the bottle, and it gave her an idea.

The sleezy motherfucker pressed into her back, hauling her up from the bar top. One of his meaty paws curled around her hip, and his breath was hot on the back of her neck, mostly because that's where he practically came up to. She was getting her face hammered into a bar by a fucking Midget. Christ.

"I said you shoulda gone home, lady."

Her head was rattled, scattered in pain, so her comeback wasn't as good as it could've been. "Screw you."

The would-be-rapist twisted a hand roughly in her hair, and - choked on her elbow as she bent it backwards, jamming it into the hollow of his throat. The dude's body jerked against her back, spittle splattered into her hair. It made Deanna feel unreasonably angry as he staggered away from her, trying to gather his bearings. She grabbed the bottle, twisting round, and bringing it to the side of his face.

Skin gave way under the bottle as it smashed against his jaw, and the momentum sent the guy cleanly to the floor, his cheekbone broken, his face slashed up awfully enough to make him scream without pause. There were droplets of blood on the floor, and on the bottle, and on Deanna's hands, but that didn't stop her from kicking the guy in the ribs with her steel-toe boots.

The dude let out another shrill scream, and she kicked him again, and again, and again. A savage rage rose up within her, a red haze destroying any of the barriers holding back her fury; her blood pounded in her ears, her fists matched the pace. She was dimly aware of pained, terrified screams, and the hot, wetness of blood on her hands, and the crack of bone, but she didn't stop hammering the would-be-rapist into the ground.

Blood splattered onto her cheek, and her fist sliced through the air in a wide arch- a hand clapped down on her elbow, gripping painfully tight, hauling her away. Deanna reacted instantly; trying to pull her arm away, hurling all of her weight backwards into the dumb bastard with such a tight grip on her when that didn't work, twisting to press the broken beer bottle to his throat.

Deanna was dimly aware of feeling surprised that she was _still_ holding the broken beer bottle, having forgotten about it in her blind fury, as she took her captor in.

Short. Blond hair. A tanned, naturally arrogant face. Deathly strong grip. An automatic wave of annoyance. Amber eyes flashed with an ancient fury, and Deanna came back to herself, removing the bottle from Gabriel's throat, eyes moving around the room.

The bar was trashed. Tables were turned over, chairs were smashed and shattered around the room. Bottles were broken, glass shattered across the floor. Her hair was wet with blood, a number of wounds began screaming for her attention.

The air - the room- was unnaturally still. Frozen in time by Gabriel, Deanna figured, eyes moving across the floor with a growing sense of anxiety.

Her blood became ice when several dark shapes on the floor caught her attention. Four blood-stained people, all beaten into unconsciousness. The brave few who'd tried to stop her. Some of them had been slashed by a bottle. The blood stained beer bottle slipped out of her hand, and broke into a thousand pieces at their feet.

The bar was completely silent. Deanna felt sick.

"Goddamnit," she breathed unsteadily, an ice-cold ball of horror lodged in her gut and refused to budge. "What the hell did I do?"

Gabriel was restraining her, body thrumming with power and fury against hers. His fingers dug into her arms, bruising. Deanna didn't struggle. "You flipped your shit," he said bluntly, unapologetically.

"Are they..."

"Dead? No, not _yet_."

Deanna thought of the witch she'd killed a few days ago, and the ghost of savage glee she'd felt, pummeling four people into a bloody pulp. Her stomach churned, and she twisted away from Gabriel to the best of her ablity, gagging.

"Ew," Gabriel whined, letting go of her abruptly as she puked on the floor. Twice in one day. He snapped his fingers, and it disappeared. Gabriel stayed a few feet away from her, eyeing her distastefully. "You know, you shouldn't feel too bad about _this_."

"I beat the crap out of three people for trying to stop me killing that dude!" Deanna turned on him furiously, rubbing her mouth with part of her sleeve that wasn't soaked in blood. Her arm ached when she moved it.

"Relax, princess. They were all dicks, anyhoo." Gabriel waved the issue off, and brought up another one to shut her up. His eyes were full of cold fury. "What you _should_ feel bad about was abandoning your two kids because your brother is being an ass."

Deanna's angry retort froze on the tip of her tongue. The wildfires of her temper flickered, and extinguished in a wave of cold shock. Once again, Gabriel didn't give her time to feel guilty. "They're outside in car."

Deanna began to pace agitatedly, lifting her hand to rub at her mouth. She'd forgotten about the blood on her hands. The slick wetness on her face startled her slightly, and it kicked the dim throbbing from the left side of her face into a screaming frenzy. Her hands recoiled from her face, and she looked at them.

Some of the blood was starting to dry. Behind her, Gabriel snapped his fingers again. The blood disappeared, but he didn't heal her, and she didn't ask him to.

Deanna couldn't help but think that Gabriel had now seen her in some pretty low places; throwing herself at him after Lisa, and beating up a bunch of innocent people. It had been a while since the silence had been so frosty between them.

Gabriel was so tightly interwined with Mary's well-being that she actually felt the urge to apologize to him for...this. Which was stupid. She owed the poor people on the floor something, not that ass-clown.

Deanna blew out a breath, and admitted, "I fucked up."

"You sure did," Gabriel said with false cheer. "Leaving Mary and Ben on their lonesome in a town you know is being stalked by a Wendigo? I mean are you actually trying to be just like Daddy? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not impressed with the results of _his_ 'parenting skills'."

Deanna's jaw went tight, and she bit down on her automatic defense of her dad. She rolled her shoulders back, and privately acknowledged that she'd deserved that one. There were a lot of things she could've said to him, but she settled on, "Why are they here?"

"It's time you all vamoosed from this lame-ass town."

"No," Deanna said stubbornly. "Sam's here-"

Gabriel sighed noisily, head tilting backwards. "It's like history's repeating itself all over again, and I hate repeats," he announced. Then, he looked at her, stepping closer. "Chew on this, princess. You come back from the dead, who is the first person you call? Other than your precious Sammy."

"Bobby," she said instantly, and then thought that one through. "Wait, you think-"

"_Finally_," Gabriel crowed in a loud, echoing voice.

"Bobby knows?" Deanna demanded. The thought hit her hard. Like Cas, she'd always assumed that Bobby would be honest with her. She'd almost come to expect this shit from Sam, but Bobby? After watching her fall apart for over a month, he let her carry on believing that her brother was in the ground? "And he, what, didn't _tell_ me?"

"I'm sure it's just because they don't think you have the balls to make your own decisions," Gabriel offered helpfully. "And hey, technically you don't."

"Screw you," Deanna snarled at him, shaking her head. "Bobby would've told me. He had to deal with me for a month before I left for Lisa's."

There had been times in her pregnancy when she'd wanted nothing more than to call Bobby, and bitch at him about things like Every-Hour-sickness, and baby-books, and _goddamnit_, no coffee. Deanna wondered if things would've turned out different if she'd picked up the phone, instead of trying to forget that she'd ever been a hunter.

She'd been on the end of that before, from Sam when he was being Mister College, and it still ached distantly, but still. This was _Sam_, and if any living person would understand how much she loved her brother, it was Bobby.

"Why are you so surprised?" Gabriel scoffed, face twisting into a truly impressive expression of scorn. "Winchesters don't have bodies in the closet, you have _graveyards_."

The complete lack of surprise in his voice triggered something in Deanna, and she marched a few steps closer to him, mouth tight in anger. "How long have you known about Sam, anyway?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I told you as soon as I found out he was still kicking. Now, as fun as this is, lets hit the road, Jack."

"I'm not just gonna skip town, and never see my brother again because he screwed up," Deanna snapped at him.

Gabriel opened his arms, and looked pointedly around the bar, eyes lingering on the maimed, unconscious bodies. Deanna looked away, grimacing. Her hands curled, causing her split knuckles to throb but she only clenched her fist tighter, soaking up the sharp pain.

"You aren't the only one to consider anymore, Dee-Dee. You've got two kids, who need you a lot more than your dorky kid brother. Go to Bobby's for a few days, clear your head, realize that Sam can't be your first priority anymore."

Gabriel caught her gaze, and glared at her, continuing, "Stop being your dad, and then get back in touch with him. Or don't. Long as you actually take care of the kid, I don't give a rat's ass."

The thought of leaving Sam in the dust hurt more than hellhounds, electric shocks and pissed off angels, but Deanna's head was clear enough to see the sense in most of what he was saying. Sam was an adult. The truth was like ashes in her mouth, but he didn't need her anymore. Not like Ben and Mary.

The second Deanna made her decision, she wanted to take it back, to cling to the delusion that Sam was still a kid, that he needed her, but she'd been all about tough choices the last few years, so she squared her jaw, crushed the urge to reach for another bottle of Jack, and nodded stiffly.

The cold fury in Gabriel's eyes disappeared, and his teeth flashed in a grin. "Being the helpful guy that I am, I grabbed all of your stuff, and- really, Dee-Dee? Red lace? I'd never have pegged you for a lace-girl."

The archangel leered at her playfully, but Deanna ignored him, reaching into her pocket for her phone, dialing an ambulance for the poor bastards on the floor.

When that was done, she walked out of the bar, towards the Impala, forcing herself not to look back. Gabriel followed behind her. He was talking, but she wasn't listening. The back door of the Impala was thrown open, and Ben rushed out, flinging himself at her legs. Deanna caught him automatically, and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, buddy. You alright?"

Ben pulled away, and shrugged, looking up at her. His eyes went wide, concern filling his face. "Your lip's split!"

"Uh, yeah," Deanna pushed him back towards the car, and dabbed at the blood with her sleeve. "Back in the car. I'll explain everything on the road."

* * *

Several hours later, Ben, Deanna and Gabriel stood outside a motel room roughly a hundred miles from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Ben was chewing on some ceral, and Deanna was nursing a cup of coffee. Shockingly enough, she hadn't been able to sleep after finding out that her brother hadn't bothered to correct her impression that he was, oh, ya know, suffering in _eternal agony. _

Goddamnit. No matter how many times she turned things over in her mind, it still hurt like hell. It was probably a good thing that Gabriel had refused to shazam them to Bobby's and that Ben had been able to convince her to pull over into a motel because he was tired.

Normally, Deanna would've let him sleep it off in the backseat, and just kept on driving, but it was her messed up way of apologizing. She wasn't proud of what she'd done back in that bar but something about Sam knocked everything else out of orbit.

"Wait, so, if it wasn't one of the God-Squad, who the hell brought Sam back?" Deanna demanded, leaning against the slightly ajar door frame. Mary was snoozing inside, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Gabriel's answer was stalled by a maid coming out of a room a few doors down. The maid looked at their lurking forms in curiosity. Deanna noticed Gabriel's finger twitch slightly an instant before the maid's trolley toppled over.

As the resulting clatter filled the hallway, Deanna felt a sharp, instinctive pull inside of her. Her head whipped around to the motel room automatically. The door was shut, and she couldn't see inside but Deanna kept on frowning at the door even as the maid hurried grabbed her things, and wheeled the trolley past, her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Relax," Gabriel said, a strange light in his eyes; anticipation. "It'll take more than that to wake your kid."

Deanna turned her head, and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Damnit, Gabriel. What the hell did you do?" she demanded accusingly.

Gabriel's expression twisted into outrage, but Ben cut his bullshit-flow off before it could send Deanna off the edge again. Sure, she was hurt, but she was pissed at Sam and Bobby, too.

"How come you're so sure that it wasn't one of your brothers?" Ben asked Gabriel.

The blond looked down at him. "Angels don't really believe in secrets."

"Or personal space," Deanna muttered, keeping an eye on the door.

"But I've been out of the game for over two thousand years, and now that I'm back, I don't spent a lot of time hanging around with the family." Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. "It could be one of my brothers, but those mooks wouldn't fight their way out of a paper-bag unless they were ordered to."

"That's kind of pathetic," Ben remarked with a frown.

"You're telling me," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Since you trapped Micheal and Lucifer in their own little play-pen, there aren't a whole lot of archangels around with enough juice to pull something like that off without smashing the cage to bits."

"Enough juice," Deanna repeated with a raised eyebrow. "That mean _you_ could have pulled Sam out?"

Gabriel waved a hand, waving the subject along. "Without an entire Garrison of other angels to keep the demons off my ass while I tried to find the damn thing, hell no."

"And I'm guessin' there are no secret archangels with enough experience of Hell to breeze through there without being torn apart," Deanna said bitterly. "Which rules out that theory, and leaves us with demons."

It would sure as hell explain why Sam had ditched her again.

"Castiel has been to Hell before," Gabriel mused, turning the thought over in his mind, glancing at her. "And he has the motivation to haul the Sasquatch out of there."

"Yeah, but Cas isn't an archangel." Deanna caught the expression on Gabriel's face, and rocked back on her heels in surprise. "Cas got promoted, huh?"

Gabriel's answer was promptly cut off by Mary's quiet coo from inside the motel room; there was a delighted edge to the sound, sweet and affectionate. Well-versed in Mary, Ben and Deanna froze.

It wasn't the shrill screech they'd expected to hear when Mary realised she was alone, it was the sound the infant made when she saw Deanna after she'd gone out, or Gabriel when he came back from torturing some poor sucker, or Ben practically every time he re-entered her line of sight.

Someone was with her. Deanna reacted quickly, shoving the door open, and stepping into the room, drawing her gun automatically. The instant her eyes landed on the figure beside her daughter's cot, Deanna froze, eyes widening, heart twisting and turning in her chest from a painful collision of relief, love, panic, pain, anger. A crime scene of emotions.

A messy head of dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a bittersweetly familiar face. Wearing his usual tan trenchcoat and suit, Cas was leaning over Mary, staring down at her tiny form with an actual, honest-to-God _expression_ on his face. His mouth was crooked, his eyes were dark and saddened. His long, pale fingers stroked their kid's face with a gentle adoration behind the action.

There was a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. Gabriel and Deanna recognised him easily, but Ben didn't. Deanna's hand came down hard on his shoulder before the kid could get another step closer to tackling Cas.

"It's alright," she muttered to him. He went stiff under her hand, but he fixed Cas with a wary stare.

Hearing her voice seemed to snap Cas out of his daze, his head whipped round, and he stared her unabashedly in the eyes. Just looking at him was like being sucker-punched in the gut, stealing her breath away, but actually meeting his eyes caused a wild shock of...something to rip through her with such force that Deanna felt a dim, distant worry for herself.

"Deanna," Cas murmured her name with the same old relevance that she didn't deserve, but there was a strong note of regret in his voice. Of apology.

It should've pissed her off, sent her flying another fit of temper, but it didn't. Deanna was stunned by his sudden appearence, estatic to see him again, and some part of her was laughing over the irony of seeing Sam and Cas again so close to each other, but all of the rage and hurt she'd been nursing over the last few months was absent

"Cas," Deanna responded after a pause.

Castiel rose to his feet, his stare never wavering. He remained frozen for a moment before moving forward, his first steps were tentative, but they gained confidence the closer he came until he was in her personal space, and they were staring at each other like nothing had changed.

Deanna wasn't sure how to feel about that, so she tried to ignore it.

"Deanna," Cas repeated her name, his eyes bore into hers. He hesitated, uncertain of how to say what he needed to. "She possesses some of my grace," as though, _that_ was the surprising thing.

Deanna raised an eyebrow at that. "Yeah, well, she _is_ your kid."

As far as comebacks go, it wasn't up to her usual standards, but the effect it had on Cas was undeniable; his shockingly blue eyes managed to get even wider, and he stared at her with something worryingly close to awe flickering through his eyes.

"I'm very sorry I left," Cas told her with a painful sincerity laying heavily in his words.

Riding the shocks of what felt like a fucking nuclear bomb being dropped on her, Deanna thought about how she'd always respected people who were straight with her, not into bullshit, and far from willing to beat around the bush; Cas mowed the fucking bush down with a tank, and trampled the remains.

"You don't get to say that to me," Deanna said, a little wild around the eyes. Cas didn't look surprise by her reaction, but his mouth tightened in a way that indicated pain, and the blue of his eyes deepened, somehow.

"Well!" Gabriel scared the friggin' hell outta Deanna by clapping his hands together once, causing her to look away from Cas. There was a sickly sweet grin on Gabriel's face in contrast to Ben's frown. "This is a conversation between Mommy and Daddy that the kiddies don't need to hear."

Gabriel made forward, but came to an abrupt halt half-way across the room. It took Deanna a second to realise why; Castiel's hand was gripping his wrist tightly, preventing him from picking Mary up. Cas glared at him fiercely, mouth set in a thin line, eyes hard.

"Relax, bro," Gabriel said cheerfully, dislodging Cas' white-knuckled grip with a little effort. "I'm just taking the kids for a turn around the park while you and Dee yell at each other."

Castiel looked at her searchingly, easing off a bit when she nodded. Gabriel rolled his eyes at them, a certain tightness to his mouth that gave his displeasure away as he picked Mary up. When Mary made a small, sleepy sound, Castiel looked at her. His form tensed with the urge to keep his long-lost kid close to him, but he didn't try to stop Gabriel again.

"Come on, kid." Gabriel reached for Ben, who was looking at her with a strangely anxious expression on his face. "I'll buy you an ice cream."

Gabriel, Ben and Mary disappeared with the heavy flutter of wings; louder than Castiel's had ever been. Even the bastard's wings were showy.

Deanna half-turned away from Cas, feeling the impending awkward conversation deep in her bones. Her guts tightened unpleasantly, and she started to pace restlessly.

Cas watched her silently, seeming to take great interest in every tick in her behaviour. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved forward to intercept her, standing in her path.

Deanna licked her lips nervously, and considered walking around him, away from him before she gave into that terrifyingly strong urge to lean forward, and lay her head on his shoulder like she was a normal chick, not a paranoid hunter with more temper than sense.

Castiel's blue eyes were crackling with power when she met them, a growing bitterness swimming in a pool of blue. Deanna couldn't look at him for long before wanting to do something kinda crazy, so she looked to the side, shoving her hands into her pockets to keep herself from grabbing him, swallowing.

"Deanna," Castiel said, his voice scrapping gruffly over the word.

"Yeah?" she closed her eyes, allowing herself to savour the feelings he provoked without a friggin' audience. It'd been awhile since she'd heard her name from him, and she hadn't realised how much she'd missed _that- _missed the small things.

"Could you excuse me for a moment?" Castiel asked, voice quiet and strained.

"Depends," she said, opening her eyes to stare at the wall in front of her blankly. "Promise to come back before the kid's birthday?"

His breathing hitched slightly, cracking in pain. She tried to contain her flinch from the sound of it, but a muscle in her jaw twitched in discomfort. The tip of Castiel's fingertip brushed against her shoulder, sending a volt of longing down her body, but she killed the feeling before it would take root and give her away.

The tender soreness disappeared from her face, her split lip healed, and the skin covering her knuckles became smooth and unbroken. Cas' voice was low and full of meaning when he spoke, "I promise."

Deanna closed her eyes as the flutter of wings sounded behind her. Her skin broke out in a wave of goosebumps, and she gritted her teeth on a snarl. "Son of a bitch."


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture. A tragic lack of Cas in the first few chapters.  
**Summary: **Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.

**My usual beta is still MIA, but the lovely SealedSecrets has been helping me puzzle out this fic. We finally have a plot, baby! **

**This chapter is shorter than the others, but I really wanted to get this chapter posted before I went of holiday, and abandoned you all. I haven't slept in three days, but I did it! Leave me a nice review, huh?**

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Deanna paced the motel room like a caged animal, full of nervous energy. Cas hadn't been gone long; barely five minutes, and she hadn't stopped pacing since. Deanna was on the verge of a full blown adrenaline rush as she thought and paced.

Hours after finding Sam, Cas decides to show up for the first time in months, and...what? It was weird, everything happening all at once, but Deanna couldn't think with her hunter-brain for long enough to form a plausible theory.

Cas finally knew about Mary, and ran away like a little girl. Sam was _alive._ Gabriel was the voice of friggin' _reason_, which was a whole new level of just plain ridiculous. Her life resembled a soap oprea with the random baby plot, and whatever the hell happened with Gabriel in that bathroom, and _Sam_.

Deanna glanced around the generic motel room with a growing blaze of fury in her gut, clenching her jaw together tightly. Goddamnit. Despite all of the weird shit in her family history, she'd never expected any of this. It was too surreal, even for a Winchester.

Surreal and just plain weird. Painful, too, enough to make Deanna want to hulk out on the motel room until she wasn't just running on a wild, burning hurt. And fury, best not forget the white-hot fury pulsing through her.

But memories of the bar stilled her hand. Maybe TV would help her cool down.

Nodding decisively to herself, Deanna grabbed a beer from the fridge, hesitated, and then grabbed a second one for her feather-brained angel. If he came back, he was going to need it. She dismissed the rest of that thought before it could add to her growing anger, sitting on the bed with her back to the headboard.

Deanna slapped one of the beers down on the bedside table, cracked the other one open, grabbing the remote from the table. She switched the TV on and browsed through the stations with a fraying patience.

When she discovered that nothing was on except a well-dressed chick wailing on about a freak storm that hit Ohio about two minutes ago, she switched the TV off and hurled the remote away in disgust.

Deanna scrubbed her face roughly, and then flexed her fingers, trying to focus on the sensation of her muscles and bones moving against her skin. It wasn't long before she gave up, swung her legs over the bed, and put her face back in her hands.

Deanna had barely done that before she felt another deep tugging on her instincts, and heard the light flutter of wings. Huh. So he had come back. Good. Deanna stayed as she was for a moment before straightening up, removing her hand from her face to look at the angel- _archangel_ standing a few feet away from her.

Castiel's hair was messier than usual, blown off his forehead, all over the place. His eyes were wide and slightly wild with alarm. His clothing looked dishevelled in a way that made Deanna rise to her feet in concern. He looked tired, like he'd used too much mojo or something.

"Damnit, Cas. What the hell happened?" Deanna demanded, taking several steps closer to him. Worry seared her insides as her thoughts grasped onto that war of his that seemed to rattle even Gabriel.

Cas looked swayed by the rough concern in her voice, and answered honestly, "I went to Ohio..."

Deanna thought of the mysterious tornado scaring the crap out of just about everybody in that area, and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm guessing you lost your temper."

"Yes," Castiel acknowledged, eyes scanning the room in a way that looked pretty restless to Deanna. His eyes rested on the empty cot, a bothered turn down to his mouth. His expression gave way to some anxiety, clearly taking this sight harder than he should.

Christ. Cas could be such a girl sometimes.

"Dude, relax." Deanna sipped her beer for something to do. "Unless he manages to give the kid a cavity before she even has teeth, he isn't gonna do anything to Mary."

The thought of Gabriel being heavily involved in Mary's life was still enough to turn her stomach at times, but Deanna was certain that the insane, sugar-addicted archangel wouldn't let anything happen to either of the kids.

And it wasn't like she could hire a random baby-sitter to keep an eye on the kids while she killed things. Best of a crappy situation.

Castiel's expression reminded her of the second time she'd meet him, in Bobby's kitchen, backing her into the counter. The memory made her blood go cold, a shiver crawl up her spine.

"You trust him," he stated, an almost quizzical tilt to his head.

Deanna raised her eyebrows at his cool remark. "Hell no."

That wasn't entirely true. She trusted him to some degree- to make sure the kids didn't get toasted by demons, and _not_ to kill her permanently cause then he'd have to be responsible for a change- but not like she usually did. Which probably had something to do with the whole repeated murder thing, the tricks and general douche-baggery.

Castiel continued to stare at her, unblinkingly. It wasn't any different from their usual staring contests, except there was something darker, displeased lurking in his eyes. It bothered Deanna, but she'd never been one to run from a fight, especially when she was pissed at someone.

Deanna swallowed another mouthful of beer, put the can on the floor, and prepared herself for whatever the hell was about to happen.

"Anyway, I'd figure you'd be pleased that me and your only half-way worthwhile sibling aren't trying to kill each other."

Cas stared at her, tucking his real feelings away in favour of a stoic expression, but his eyes blazed with fire. "I'm very pleased that Gabriel has been..._helpful_ to you."

Deanna looked at him, processing the barest traces of sarcasm in his tone, and the expression in his eyes. Deanna wasn't the brightest crayola in the box but she got people- angels, archangels, _whatever_- and she _knew_ Cas almost as well as she knew her brother.

The hidden viciousness in his tone that seemed to surprise him, the way a muscle in his jaw twitched, his stick-up-the-ass expression that brought out the urge to look around the room for Uriel, his aggressiveness towards Gabriel, despite fighting a war with the guy at his back...

Realization hit Deanna like a train to a suicide jumper, causing her brain to fly to a screeching halt. She remembered the cupid's mistake the night before Lisa's death, and that grief-fueled kiss in the bathroom, the shock she'd felt when he'd touched Cas' handprint. Was it possible that he'd felt that too?

Deanna didn't think Cas was the type to get jealous without reason, and it all slotted together like puzzle pieces.

"You have no right to be jealous, you know." Deanna told him harshly, watching the dismayed flip in his expression. It was easier to feel angry, than to hope that she actually meant enough to the feather-brained dick for him to get possessive.

His actions were very fucking clear as to how he felt about her. Sure, Deanna had fucked up with the Michael thing, but he'd been the one to skip out on her without a second thought soon as he got his mojo back.

Castiel hesitated briefly, suddenly unused to her harsh, confrontational approach to matters. "You shared a..." his mouth went tight, lips pressed tightly together, becoming bloodless. He adverted his eyes down to the floor, frowning faintly.

The urge to ease his mind and to hurt him warred within her. Anger burned deep and hot so low in her stomach that it was almost like arousal. Like always, anger won.

"I kissed him," Deanna spat mercilessly, causing Castiel to flinch. His throat bobbed, form going tense, his expression became hollow.

And then anger lit his face as he raised his head to stare at her with such a furious intensity that it was almost a glare.

"You are angry with me," Castiel murmured, his deep voice scraping over her. His face was set in that annoying stoic expression. "Because of my absence," he seemed a little unsure of this, eyes darting to the cot, to her stomach, and then back to her eyes. Whatever he saw on her face seemed to confirm it, as Castiel nodded slightly. "I understan-"

"Fuck you," Deanna snapped, the burn of anger become a wild-fire blaze that consumed her whole. If Cas hadn't been such an emotionless son-of-a-bitch, he might've rocked back on his heels at the fire in her voice. "You don't understand jacksquat about the last year! Damnit, Cas, I had no idea what the fuck Mary was gonna come out as- if she'd have a lion's head, or burn out some poor bastard's eyes by accident, or grow to be taller than Sam!"

Castiel expression flinched a little, and he started forward, desperation replacing the intense anger in his eyes. "Deanna-"

"Or, hell, if she'd ever even meet you!" Deanna continued roughly, something brutal and raw in her voice as her body coiled tightly with rage. It was a helluva lot easier to deal with. "Because as soon as your job was done, you hauled ass in the other direction!"

"Please," Castiel said quietly, despair dawning in his electric blue eyes as he stared into her. The scathing words evaporated in her throat. The expression on his face caused Deanna to swallow uncomfortable, glancing away.

When she did, Castiel closed the distance, getting close- real close, _too_close. Things left unsaid festered between them, dark and gritty and horrible, charging the air with bitter regret.

"I..." Castiel hesitated, more uncertain than Deanna had seen him in a long time. "Do you truly think that of me?"

Deanna ran through that question a few times, feeling her confusion grow. "What? Think what of you?"

"That everything I did for you was a job? That I don't love you?" Castiel asked gravely.

The words hit her like a train, making her swallow again. Deanna tilted her head back, remembering the few days he'd spent as a human, and the pained fury in his deep voice when she'd tried to give it all up to Michael, and that...fucked-up trip to the future.

"I...no, Cas," Deanna said finally. Castiel still looked like someone had just set his puppy on fire right in front of his eyes. "I...just...sometimes..." she gave up with a grimace.

"I hurt you," Castiel realized, looking down miserably. A protest danced at the tip of Deanna's tongue, a denial that she was that affected by him, that he was capable of hurting her.

And then Castiel stepped forward, close enough to make Deanna's hackles rise before she relaxed as best as she could with the urge to jump him gaining momentum. Her heart speed up in her chest, blood pumping with lust and the simmering resentment in the pit of her gut.

Castiel's hands twitched, resisting the urge to touch her. His eyes looked especially bright as close as they were, his unnecessary breath ghosted over her face. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, not to lean forward and press her mouth to his.

"I wish to...make it up to you?" his voice held a slight note of questioning, but his eyes were firm and intent.

"Cas, the only thing you can do for me is to stick around. It sucks being a single mom."

Castiel went still, an almost audible tension coiling in his form, drawing his shoulder's tighter than a bowstring. His forehead creased with an intense train of thought, but his eyes remained clear and sharp on hers.

The moment seemed to stretch on fucking forever. Just as Deanna was about to tell him to go fuck himself, his expression underwent a swift change; chapped lips sloping downwards, shoulders squaring under a heavy weight, guilt and regret seeping from his expressive eyes to the usually inexpressive lines of his face.

Deanna's blood turned to ice, and her stomach dropped. Shit. He was going to say no, joining the league of deadbeat dads who'd pulled a disappearing act.

If she'd been thinking a little more clearly, Deanna would've realised that was so far from who Castiel was, the thought was laughable- but it hurt enough already, and she was struggling to brace herself for the words pouring out of his mouth.

"You wish for me to stay on Earth indefinitely," Castiel murmured with heavy eyes, a regretful twist to his mouth. His eyes flickered to the cot, before settling meaningfully on her surprised green eyes with a clear message; for you and our child. "Yes."

Deanna felt a little leap in her gut, knowing on instinct that Cas' wings were expanding in her small motel room.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Deanna exclaimed, grabbing his arm to stop him from disappearing, catching his regretful eyes. "When I said stick around, I meant pop in whenever you can, not tear out your grace, or whatever the hell you were about to do."

The weight lifted from Castiel's eyes, smoothing out the stressful lines on his face. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. But not all of it, Deanna noticed. His expression wasn't quite relieved, but the strain had mostly vanished.

In the lingering silence, a shock surged up from Deanna's gut, softening into a pleased surprise.

"Thank you," Castiel murmured, looking at her hand, wrapped around his arm.

"Don't," Deanna said, clearing her throat. Her hand was reluctant to move away from him, but she managed to convince herself to let go, and shoved her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, curling her fingers around the motel key.

"Deanna..."

"Were you actually gonna..." Deanna stopped herself short, unable to say the words, gesturing back-and-forth with a seemingly careless hand.

Deanna knew how much Heaven meant to him, understood it a little too well, maybe, so...it mattered, what he'd been about to do. It mattered a lot, and she can feel her clutter perception of him changing with the warm, girly-as-hell glow in her chest. Fuck.

Castiel looked at her, a little frown creasing his brow again. "Yes," he said, voice scrapping over her like gravel.

Deanna nodded quickly, catching sight of her beer can in the corner of her eyes. She grabbed the can, swallowed a mouthful, before grabbing the other one, and shoving it into Castiel's chest as she walked past him, to the table. Deanna yanked out a chair, filling the silence with the loud screeching noise, and sat down, stance relaxed.

Castiel remained standing, holding his beer, uncertainty lurking in the electric blue of his eyes. Deanna remembered perfectly how he tasted; light and airy with the aftertaste of a lightning storm. She drank some more beer, drummed her fingers loudly on the table, agitated.

"There are many things we need to discuss," Castiel said in his low, deep voice, watching. "Gabriel is not one of them."

"Yeah," Deanna said, carefully swallowing her words about Crowley. He hadn't done anything since Meg, so she could give the dude a few moments before telling him about Sam and Crowley.

A jolt of anxiety shot up her spine, causing her to straighten in her seat. Deanna wanted answers about Sam, and some part of her was outraged that she was actually sitting around, practically going the Winchester way of weak-in-the-knees while she could be straightening things out with her brother.

Screw it. Deanna stood up, pulled her car keys out of her pocket. "There isn't a whole lot I can tell you about Mary that you can't find out for yourself. So why don't we get right on that?"

Castiel looked at her, perfectly deadpan except for the small crease between his brows that was on its way to becoming permanent and the crooked-frown-ish-thing he was wearing. "You don't wish to discuss our relationship?"

Deanna stared back at him, uncomfortably aware of how ridiculous her life was. "Well. We're, uh, probably going to have that talk later, right?"

Castiel frowned at her, looking as though he didn't think she was being careful enough. Deanna's head was still swimming with his near-fatal misinterpretation, but she could still see the glimmer of disppointment in his eyes.

"Look, Cas," Deanna moved closer, invading his personal space this time. Castiel took a step forward, his eyes unwavering on hers. Deanna didn't look away until the Sam issue started to slip away from her, pummeled into background noise by the sheer force of his gaze, and the affection it made her feel.

Deanna licked her dry lips before daring another glance into his eyes. "Shit's hitting the fan pretty messily right now. We'll...pour all of our feelings out and talk about them over hot cocoa another time, okay?" she smacked his shoulder, and pretended that she couldn't hear the distant sound of a whip cracking in the back of her mind.

How the hell had he managed to con her into having a relationship talk just by staring at her silently? When they weren't even screwing anymore. Jesus.

"I'd prefer whiskey," Castiel responded gravely. It made Deanna grin. Yeah, he'd hurt her pretty badly, but she still...felt something for the bastard. He'd been a good friend before they'd started letting of stream together.

Speaking of feelings...

"Hey, can I borrow your phone?" Deanna's hand went automatically to the pocket she knew he kept it in. There were voicemails to delete. Stupid hormonal confessions, worse than being drunk or drugged.

Castiel looked puzzled, but reached into his pocket, fingers brushing hers in a way that wasn't entirely accidental, and handed it over.

"Thanks," Deanna said, stuffing it into her pocket. She'd give it back before getting drunk enough to actually have that talk with Cas. "C'mon-"

Castiel's form blurred for a moment with the speed in which he whirled round, shoulder bumping into hers. Deanna felt a flash of alarm, hand moving down to automatically grip the demon killing knife, before she realized what he was staring at with such a weird expression.

Mary was laying on Deanna's bed, moving with a sluggish sleepiness. Deanna shoved the knife back into her waistband with a curse, stalking forward and sweeping Mary up into her arms. The two-month old cooed in her ear, curling into her body heat.

Deanna absentminedly kissed her daughter's ear, focused on the slight sound of crinkling paper. A page, torn clumsily from a notebook, laid on the sheets.

Nobody's dead. Thought you might want a little more family time.

Shit, and she'd called Gabriel the half-way decent sibling?

Deanna held her kid at arms-length, carefully checking her over. Mary made a screeching sound of complaint at being held away from her, tiny hands reaching for her, but she looked fine. There was a small trickle of strawberry sauce on her cheek, but no reason to rip Gabriel's lungs out, and make him eat them.

Deanna could feel Castiel moving closer at a slow, nervous pace, though his footsteps were soundless and the floorboards didn't creak at his careful steps like they did for her careless ones. Cas was a sneaky fucker, but she'd gotten used to him a long time ago, and it was like riding a bike.

Despite her thoughts, Deanna felt a small ball of anxiety coil in her gut as she adjusted Mary in her arms, and turned around to let him see her. Castiel's eyes caught hers for a split second before his eyes moved slowly down, locking onto his daughter's.

Not for the first time, Deanna admired how goddamn similar their eyes were. If Mary was lucky, she'd take more after her dad than her screwed up mom.

Mary nestled closer to her chest, staring up at Cas with bright eyes, face scrunching up in a sleepy yawn. The sound caused a chamber reaction in Castiel, something seemed to rise and fall in the exact same moment, and it wasn't his exhale.

Deanna could see enough of his face to pinpoint the exact moment it crumbled with hurt and regret strong enough to make her chest ache with sympathy.

Then Cas leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Mary's, clenching his eyes shut. Strands of his hair tickled Deanna's sternum. The silence was heavy, tension laid thick and heavy over them. Castiel's form was wound as tense as hers, his shoulders drawn tight under his ugly trenchcoat.

One of Mary's chubby hands flailed in the air, before finding Castiel's dark, messy hair, and gripping it tightly. Mary's arm jerked weakly, tugging. Castiel's hand rose, curling one finger around the whole of Mary's hand with room to spare.

A tiny, barely noticable shudder wrecked through him. It was a small thing he couldn't control. As she watched with a growing sense of unease, it got worse until his shoulders were trembling slightly.

Deanna frowned at the back of his neck, uncomfortable and concerned. "Cas?"

"I'm-" to her horror, Castiel's gruff voice cracked; a slight, breathless, pained little crack, but it was _there_, tearing at her. Not crying, but sure as hell hurting. "I'm sorry."

Deanna hesitated, shifting Mary a little in her arms, free one hand to curl around the nape of his neck. "Hey, hey- it's okay, Cas." Deanna found herself honest-to-god _petting_ his hair, unnerved by his emotional reaction. "No way you could've known about this, buddy."

* * *

It was strange to have Cas in her passengers seat again after so long. Stranger still to see him holding Mary to his chest, gently stroking her hair while watching Deanna with solemn eyes. Ben and Gabriel were in the backseat, and her tapes did little to drown out the sound of their arguing.

"I-Spy?" Ben demanded, staring at the million or so year old archangel in disbelief. "I'm ten, not _five_."

"Still too young to play any _interesting_ car games, junior." Gabriel grinned obnoxiously at the kid.

It was the kind of grin that usually made Deanna's hand itch with the urge to grab her gun. Right now, she was too distracted to really noticed how much of an ass Gabriel was.

50 miles until she got some goddamned answers. Her blood was thrumming with tension, her skin crawled with the urge to work her fury out. Deanna gritted her teeth, glaring out the windshield as the Impala raced down the highway.

A few miles passed in which Gabriel managed to convince Ben to play the most disturbing game of I-Spy ever (where Gabriel kept on spying attractive woman, and once popped out of the car to Egypt to spy some pyramids which outraged Ben) and Deanna's unpleasant anticipation reached dangerous levels, before Castiel spoke.

"Deanna," he said her name quietly enough that the fighting _children_ in the back didn't hear. How she heard him over the argument in the back, she'd never know.

Deanna looked over at him. Mary was asleep in his arms, clutching his blue tie in her tiny hands, anchoring him to her. Deanna could understand the impulse.

She cleared her throat quietly. "Yeah?"

There was concern in his eyes. Deanna had explained about the two Sam's after he'd pulled himself out of his heartbroken funk, and almost crashed the Impala when he'd told her that, oh, _yeah_, he already fucking knew. Christ.

The pain hadn't faded from that, even after he'd added that he'd assumed Sam would've come to her. She wasn't pissed at Cas about it. She'd made the mistake of assuming that too.

"I don't understand humans," Castiel told her, his deep voice was even more grave and rough than ever. "But I believe Bobby and Sam did not intend to cause you pain."

His electric blue eyes flickered to her hands, clutching the steering wheel so tightly that the skin was a deathly pale. 10 miles to go.

Deanna flexed her hands around the steering wheel, and smiled bitterly. "You don't think it occurred to my dorky brother that thinking he was trapped in the cage, being tortured by the two most powerful archangels hurt too?"

Castiel's eyes bore into hers as he shifted Mary in his arms, holding her closer. "Perhaps they believed you deserved something more?"

Deanna glanced at her daughter's peaceful face, and looked away, returning her eyes to the road. 8 miles. "I became a hunter again because of..."

Cas didn't know about Crowley, but he did know about Meg possessing poor Lisa, and what she'd done to protect her kid. It was a good way to die, Deanna thought, glancing at Mary again.

"Deanna?" Castiel murmured, concerned by her silence.

"Before we have _that_ talk," Deanna muttered, referring to the relationship talk she planned to avoid at all costs. "There's something else..."

"Of course."

Castiel stared at her, the barest curve to his pink, chapped lips. He didn't look surprised by the implied trouble, instead he looked fond, as though trouble was to be expected around her. To be fair, it kinda was. But, it didn't explain the fondness in his expression, like he'd missed some...one.

Fuck. The warm glow in her chest was back, spreading through her, but not quite stomping out the flames of her trepidation. Deanna licked her lips, feeling the flames become a wild-fire any arsonist would be proud to claim when she caught sight of Bobby's salvage yard.

Her stomach curdled unpleasantly as she drove into the salvage yard, and parked near Bobby's house. The wave of fond nostalgia and lingering betrayal made her head spin as she clambered out of the car, and looked at the old place.

It was the same scrap heap that she'd spent most of her happy memories at. Rusting cars were practically pilled on top of each other. Deanna shoved her hands in her pockets, turning her head back to the Impala as wings fluttered, and Cas appeared beside her, craddling Mary.

Castiel watched her with his head cocked to the side, and narrowed his eyes when Deanna flashed a grin she didn't feel. Fuck. He knew her too well. The door slammed loudly closed behind them, giving her an excuse to look away from Castiel's blue eyes.

Ben, who'd slammed the door, glanced around the scrap yard, taking care to avoid her gaze. Deanna made a mental note to ask what the hell was wrong with him when things calmed down as much as they ever would.

"What if he isn't in?" Ben asked her. The thought made Gabriel laugh as he burst out of the car, closing Ben's door.

"We break in," Deanna answered, glancing at Bobby's door. Now or never. She gathered her courage, and stalked up the steps, her strange group trailing after her.

Briefly, Deanna wondered how Bobby would react to Mary, and her silence about the kid before hastily shoving the thought aside. She'd drove across South Dakota for answers, not to play happy familes with a man that didn't see it fit to tell her that her baby brother wasn't pushing up daisies

"And then...?" Ben asked, seeming vaguely alarmed at the thought of breaking in.

"Gabriel will find him, and haul his ass here," Deanna said, knocking loud enough to smother Gabriel's scoffing.

"Word of brotherly advice, Castiel." When Deanna and Castiel glanced over, it was to see Gabriel's smug smirk. "You might want to hide behind Dee-Dee."

Castiel's brow creased in confusion. Deanna stared at the blond archangel, as did Ben.

"Why would I wish to do that?"

Gabriel's smirk grew, and his eyebrows wiggled suggestively at Castiel and Deanna. "Well, you did knock his little girl up. Rednecks tend to settle that matter with a shotgun."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Deanna snarled at him, ready to whip out her gun and rock-salt his ass.

"What? Me?" Gabriel gave her a wide-eyed look of innocence. "I think you're projecting, princess."

"Really? Well, I think go _screw yourself!_"

Before Gabriel could retort, the door swung open. Bobby stood in the doorway, same truckers cap on his head. He looked irritated, which quickly vanished when he got a proper look at her.

"Deanna?" Bobby's eyes flickered to Cas, his expression reeling from surprised to shocked. "_Cas_?" Then he looked at Mary's form, nestled safely in Castiel's arms, to Ben's freckled face to Gabriel's slicked back golden hair, and smug grin

The door slammed shut before Deanna could snarl at him. There was the sound of hasty footsteps, and then the door was yanked open again.

"Bobby-" Deanna cut herself off with an angry curse when Bobby hurled a glass of cold holy water into her face. Gabriel started laughing at her. The door slammed again.

Deanna blinked the water out of her eyes, and rubbed the thick drops away with the sleeve of her leather jacket. All in all, she should've expected that.

"He believed you were a demon," Castiel stated, sounding faintly perplexed.

"Yeah. But hey, all things considered that could've gone worse."

"How?" Ben asked over the howl of Gabriel's laughter.

"He could've shot me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.  
**Spoilers:** Up to the end of season 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture. A tragic lack of Cas in the first few chapters.  
**Summary: **Always-a-girl!Dean. As Deanna Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. AU series 6. Shockingly long fic. Lisa/Deanna, Castiel/Deanna.

* * *

Anger coursed through Deanna, dulled by the long hours of headspace, but still very fucking _there_. Deanna rubbed the remaining droplets of holy water off her face with her sleeve, feeling her muscles coil with rage. Her fury built up within her, gaining momentum with each passing moment.

The side of her face tingled from the force of Castiel's stare, but when Deanna turned to look at him, his expression was more senere than she'd seen in years. It probably had something to do with the sleeping infant in his arms.

It figured that he'd have more of a maternal instinct than she did.

A particularly loud burst of laughter made Castiel break his creepy staring-contest with her to frown at Gabriel. Deanna followed his gaze automatically, catching a glimpse of unhappiness on Ben's face before it disappeared when he realized she was looking.

A flicker of concern lit in her gut, bringing her anger to heel. Ben ducked his head slightly, masterfully avoiding her eyes, staring forcefully at Gabriel.

"Gabriel."

Gabriel smirked obnoxiously at his younger brother, voice ringing with laughter when he spoke, "What?" Castiel increased his glare. "Oh, c'mon-"

"Whoa, whoa," Deanna intervened, raising her hands in a calming gesture, inserting herself between the two archangels. "Knock it off, tough guys."

Gabriel turned mirthful eyes to her, but Cas continued to stare at his brother, though she could tell by the way his posture was angled towards her that he was listening. Just not enough.

It annoyed Deanna enough that she thoughtlessly reached out, and grabbed his shoulder. In an instant, all of Castiel's attention switched to her, head jerking round to pin her with an intense stare. It was like watching a speeding train suddenly switching tracks.

"Hey," Deanna said forcefully, moving her hand away from Castiel's tan trenchcoat. His eyes tracked her hand briefly, before meeting her eyes. Sometimes the color of his eyes still gave her a little start, making her swallow before she spoke. "We don't have time for this."

Castiel's brow creased, his expression hardening the tiniest bit. Deanna returned his stare with a frown of her own. Cas was acting weird- weirder than usual anyway. More aggressive, maybe. More emotional, definitely.

His eyes were the same, though. An intense, startling blue that hit her square in the chest, sending a bolt of heat down her body, simmering low enough in her stomach that it was definitely lust.

Outside the little bubble Deanna and Castiel had unknowningly created for themselves, Gabriel looked between them, shared an awkward grimace with Ben about the staring, and noticed that there was _barely_ 5 inches between them.

Deanna was snapped out of her staring contest by a long, high whistle from Gabriel, drawing her and Castiel's eyes towards the archangel. Gabriel's mouth was forming an exaggerated O of surprise.

"Oooo-_kay_. You guys should seriously get a room before the tension kills us all," Gabriel shook his head. The archangel angled his face down as he said, seemingly to himself, "I'm not sure if it's sexual or just plain awkward."

"Dude," Deanna snapped, glancing at Ben. Like she'd have sexual tension with _anyone_ around Ben, after what happened with his mom, or Mary, because...well, that was just gross.

Gabriel raised his head to scoff at her. "Oh, like you haven't said worse around the kid."

"Gabriel," Castiel said again, deep voice growling.

...damnit. Deanna really hated how hot his voice was. It wasn't her fault that the last time she'd heard Castiel's voice _that_ low and dark he'd been more interested in getting her to stop teasing him, and let him, huh, _touch_ her than tearing his brother a new one over her.

It was distracting. Very, very distracting. Maybe there _was_ some sexual tension after all...

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Get lost. Skedaddle. Vamoose." Gabriel sniffed with exaggerated offended dignity, taking a step away from her with each word, absently ruffling Ben's hair as he passed. "Pfft! I know when I'm not wanted."

"Really?" Deanna grumbled at him.

The archangel abruptly disappeared with the heavy flutter of wings, and a lingering chuckle. Deanna was aware of his departure on a strange, psychic level. It felt like a release of pressure on some kind of muscle.

It was fucking weird, and one of the last things that Deanna wanted to think about. It was bad enough watching Sam developing psychic powers, let alone experiencing it first hand because Cas was too strong for a condom to remain intact.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Deanna turned back to Bobby's door, raising her leg to press against the door.

Castiel shifted beside her as he realized what she was about to do, shielding Mary from any possible flying debris. "I could teleport into Bobby Singer's house."

Deanna glanced over at him, catching the confusion in his eyes. She flashed him some teeth. "Nah." Deanna twisted her head back, catching Ben's eyes. "Might wanna stand back a little, kid."

Ben's eyes widened a little, and he moved down the steps to where Gabriel had been standing. "Far enough?" he asked.

"Yeah," Deanna grunted, setting her gaze on the door. The strong muscles in her legs uncoiled, slamming her foot into the door which shook violently, but did not break immediately. Bobby had some pretty good locks. It would take a few kicks before the lock broke.

"Won't you kicking the door down freak him out even more?" Ben asked, hanging back uncertainly.

"Should do," Deanna agreed darkly, preparing for another kick. Her anger had faded, but the lingering burn in her chest hadn't. "But if I know Bobby as well as I think I do-"

It occurred to Deanna that maybe she didn't know Bobby so well, and her next kick was extra vicious. The lock gave in with a loud crash, and the door burst open, spilling sunlight into Bobby's familiar home.

"-then he'll already be done in the panic room by now," Deanna finished as she walked through to Bobby's living room, taking an extra long look at the kitchen table which saw more books than meals before turning around to face Cas and Ben.

Deanna wasn't exactly eager to drag answers out of Bobby now that she was actually in his house, so close to getting a goddamn explanation, but she shoved the feeling down, trying to smother it with the burn of betrayal in her chest.

"Why does he have a panic room?" Ben wondered.

"Uh-" Deanna scratched her forehead absently, glancing between Cas and Ben. "Cas will explain that while I go talk to Bobby."

The way Ben's expression shut down added to Deanna's dawning notion that telling Cas to explain anything to anyone was an awful idea, but she wanted to speak to Bobby alone.

Castiel glanced at Ben, not failing to pick up on the kid's hostile feelings judging by the smallest change in his expression.

"But what if he shoots you?" Ben demanded.

Deanna waved his concern away. "Rock-salt hurts like hell, but it doesn't kill."

Her casual remark made Ben and Castiel frown simultaneously. Deanna raised an eyebrow at them. It took a moment for her to brush off the weirdness. "I'll be fine."

Ben glanced at Castiel, looking like he was about to argue for a split second, before he sighed in a grumpy manner that reminded her instantly of Sam, but did what she said, which didn't remind her of Sam, and sat down on Bobby's threadbare old couch with a huff.

"Don't die," he told her grimly. "Or get into another bar fight."

Deanna grimaced at him, raising her hand to stop him there. "Well, I'm not gonna die, but no promises on the last one." Deanna grinned as her light tone managed to drag a slight smile out of the unusually moody pre-teen.

"Deanna," Castiel said as she shouldered past him. Deanna stopped, turning to face him dead-on. Castiel caught her gaze, and held it without seeming to blink. It was difficult not to fall into his eyes like she always seemed to. "Are you certain you wish to do this alone?"

"Jeez, Cas, I don't need you to hold my hand." Deanna shouldered past him, forcing herself not to spare him a look. From the corner of her eye, Deanna saw him turning to watch her go.

The force of his stare burned through her as she left the room, an immovable feeling of being watched. By anyone else, it would have pissed her off, alarmed her, but from Cas...even now, it felt like a comfort, soothing the bitter aftertaste of anxiety lingering in her mouth.

* * *

Deanna found Bobby in the panic room, like she'd assumed she would. He was sitting on the bed they'd once strapped Sam to in his blood-junkie detox with his head in his hands. He didn't look up at her loud footsteps, or her unsubtle entrance.

Deanna drew Ruby's demon killing knife from her waistband, and waited a moment. Bobby didn't look up, or react to the weapon in anyway. He didn't bitch at her for kicking down his door when she could've used Angel-Air either. Wasn't like Bobby.

It brought out a weird mixture of suspicion and concern in her. Maybe Bobby should be the one getting splattered by holy water, but first things first.

Carelessly pushing her sleeve up, Deanna pressed the blade to her arm, and drew it across. Her mouth went tight with the flames of pain the blade left in its wake, but she didn't release the grunt of pain catching in her throat.

"I, uh, didn't think the kids would wanna see Mommy cutting herself," Deanna tossed it out there jokingly, dropping the knife to the floor. She moved around the room restlessly, not quite pacing, keeping her eyes on Bobby. "Or Cas for that matter. The dude gives the most boring self-destructive lectures in the world..."

"Deanna," Bobby snapped, cutting through her bullshit ramblings with the usual grumpiness, but without raising his head. "Stop stalling, and sit your dumbass down before I drop you. I ain't one of those air-headed floozies you used to shuffle out the door back when you were a kid, I'm not gonna be distracted by your motor-mouth."

Deanna sat her dumbass down beside him, and looked at him, remembering the long year preceding the moment. The month she'd spent on Bobby's couch, trying desperately not to crawl into the bottle and never come out again because that was another thing she'd _promised_ Sam.

Bobby had seen her like that, completely fucking broken, trapped in her own imagination by images of her baby brother...being _torn_ and _carved_ into fucking shreds. And he hadn't spoken a goddamn word to her.

A horrifying thought occurred to Deanna over the sound of blood rushing in her ears; how long had Bobby known? Before or after she left for Lisa's? If...if he'd told her, maybe everything with Meg could've been avoided.

Lisa could have lived, and Ben would've had a chance to avoid all of...it, the Winchester Plague.

"A certain pain in my ass called Gabriel said something to me a little while ago..." Deanna said finally, her voice harsh with the reignited blaze of fury in her gut. She clenched her jaw, and leveled Bobby with a fierce glare, green eyes hard. "Just after I found out that Sammy was walking the Earth again."

Bobby finally turned his head to look at her, eyes narrowed. But the look in his eyes was far from hard. It was remorseful, and Deanna already knew the answer, but she had to...had to ask anyway. Maybe it was machonistic, but she needed to hear it from the man himself.

"He asked me who I went too, just after Cas pulled my ass outta the fire, when I couldn't- or in this case, _wouldn't_- go to my only remaining blood family." Deanna watched Bobby's face, the fall in his eyes, and shook her head.

His reaction tore pain out of her better than Alistair ever could. Damnit.

Deanna looked away, swallowing and clenching her eyes briefly shut as pain swelled up inside of her. "Damnit Bobby," her voice was closer to a rasp than the snarl she'd hoped for. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"The hell didn't I tell you?" Bobby demanded, shifting slightly away from her to stare at her incredulously. "Because you were out, Deanna!"

"Out?" Deanna laughed derisively, and Bobby recoiled slightly from the sound. "I wasn't out of anything, except my goddamn mind. Believing that I could live a normal life with Lisa, and Ben, and my kid."

Bobby frowned at her, derailed by the mention of Mary. "You walked away from the life, kid! You were living with Lisa- and avoiding my calls, might I add-"

"That doesn't mean I was out!" Deanna shook her head angrily. "We popped Lucifer back in his cage, Bobby. You didn't think the demons were just gonna let that go, did you?" Bobby's eyes flashed, concern bleaching out some of his outrage. "That Meg and fucking Crowley give a damn that I'm _out_?"

"Crowley?" Bobby demanded. "And Meg?"

"Yeah, those two jokers. Well. Meg's outta the picture now," she jerked her head at the demon-killing knife in explanation. Bobby's eyes followed the motion, resting on the knife, then snapping back to her.

Understanding crossed his face. "Lisa-"

Deanna smiled bitterly. "Smacked Meg down for just long enough to blow her brains out in front of her kid."

"Damnit." Bobby closed his eyes, horror settling over his face. There was a flicker of old pain on his face; the way that Karren, Bobby's wife, died wasn't entirely unlike how Lisa had.

"And I brought that down on them!" Deanna raised her voice again, guilty words tumbling out of her mouth. "The moment I turned up on their doorstep, they were screwed, okay? So you better have a goddamned good reason for not telling me that my _brother_ wasn't having several tons of crap kicked out of him."

Deanna expected Bobby to dive all over her for implying some blame on his part, to steam-roll her into the ground with a rant validating the cold hard truth settling in the back of her mouth, and the guilt tearing her insides to shreds.

Instead of tearing her a new one, Bobby shook his head, turning his eyes to the panic room's walls. "Sam said you were happy."

Deanna waited for a moment before realizing that _that_ was it, all he was gonna offer in defense for himself. "That's it? That's why you didn't tell me about Sam?"

Bobby's head whipped round to stare at her, his eyes were vehement but not angry. "I need another reason? I thought you were safe there."

Deanna scoffed, mouth tight in anger. She was pissed and hurt and fucking betrayed, and it wasn't going away. No matter how much she yelled- it didn't ease. "Whatever," she said tightly.

Bobby's eyes were heavy on the side of her face as she beat her anger into submission, and memorized the hurt in her chest.

_You dumb bitch_, Deanna told herself, thinking of Bobby and Sam and Cas, _this is what you get when you give a crap._

"I didn't like keeping you in the dark, kid, but I did what I thought was best for you."

Deanna had managed to wrestle her temper into something vaguely resembling control in the brief silence, but her rage exploded with the unintentionally provocative words.

A furious energy unfurled within her. Deanna flew to her feet, paced away from the cot, then turned back to Bobby. The lights above them flickered the tiniest bit, unnoticed by the two hunters.

"There are so many fucking things wrong with that goddamn sentance that I don't even know where the _hell_ to begin!" Deanna snarled roughly, sounding more animalistic than human. "It's called free will, remember, Bobby? That thing we fought for, oh, what, _less than a friggin' year ago_?"

"Deanna-"

"You should have told me, Bobby!"

"Hey!" Bobby roared over her, the loud timber of his voice putting hers to shame. His eyes flashed "You aren't exactly lily-white in this crap heap, Deanna."

"When have I ever pretended to be?" she demanded furiously.

"You weren't exactly forth-coming about your _daughter_." Bobby rose to his own feet, stalking closer to her, face flushing with anger. "I didn't even know you could get pregnant after that hunt."

Despite the reel from betrayal to betrayal, Deanna grimaced. On one of her first solo hunts, she'd gotten on the wrong side of a deranged and incidentally barren ghost-bitch, and been so badly damaged from the experience that she'd lost the ability to have kids.

Not that she'd been planning to until seeing those two pink lines all those months ago.

"Yeah, well. Cas fixed me, remember?" Deanna could almost instantly feel her fury dimming, thinking of her daughter and, well, Cas. Briefly, she wondered how he was coping with Mary.

She hoped Ben was helping him. The poor dude was clueless enough about adults, let alone kids as young as their daughter. Their daughter. Christ. It'd take a while before she got used to that...

"The girl is his kid, isn't she?" Bobby asked, watching the way the fire in her eyes calmed with a startled expression. Deanna looked at him sharply.

Bobby rolled his eyes at her, seemingly content to leave their argument behind. "You two were hardly subtle."

Deanna recalled several of their hook-ups in Bobby's salvage yard, and was forced to agree with the older hunter there. Between the Intenser-Than-Thou staring they seemed to fall into naturally, and practically assalting each other whenever they had a moment alone, they hadn't been very sneaky about it.

Deanna gave Bobby a hard, assessing look. One more thing needed to be said before they shoved another skeleton in their closet. "You didn't tell me about Sam, and I didn't tell you about Mary. I guess this makes us even."

Bobby stared at her in sheer surprise for a second, as though he couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. Or more accurately, that he couldn't believe she loved someone as much as she'd always loved Sam.

Deanna stared back coolly, her expression carrying a clear message; _Don't know me so well after all, huh?_

Bobby looked away, shame crawling into his expression, and leaving just as quickly.

Deanna quirked a grin at the older hunter, pretending to dismiss the lingering betrayal and low-burn of hurt in her chest. Just as she was about to sling out a joke, something tugged at her stomach, and wings fluttered.

Deanna turned towards the sound automatically, ignoring the curse of surprise from Bobby at her swift movement, and Castiel's sudden appearence. Along with Cas came Mary, and along with Mary came a loud, ringing shriek that provoked her instincts in a second.

Castiel fixed her with a dejected look, clutching the kid closely to his chest. His expression held signs of stress, and Deanna could sympathise; the kid had one set of lungs on her. His lips were tight and bloodless.

"Something's wrong with Mary."

"I can tell," Deanna said loudly over the sounds of her daughter's bloodcurling screams. She lifted Mary from Castiel's arms, and came to an abrupt halt when she realized that the infant was still clinging to Castiel's blue tie. Of friggin' course. As if she wasn't aware enough of the blue-eyed bastard already.

"So can everyone else," Bobby grumbled as Castiel's hands moved automatically to hover over Mary. "I'll leave you two idjits to deal with this."

Deanna spared the older hunter a glance as he made for the door, stepping closer to Cas, and adjusting the screeching baby in her arms. "Afraid of a baby?"

"Yours? Hell yeah, I'm afraid." Bobby paused in the door way to tell her. His eyes flickered between Deanna and Cas, lingering on the blue tie connecting them.

Castiel lifted his eyes from Mary to catch the slight frown on Bobby's face. "You may shoot me if you wish."

Deanna snorted in amusement, ducking and shaking her head. Mary's screams lessened as her mother shook slightly with amusement, grinning down at the baby. Her daughter's face was red, and her bright blue eyes were watering, small sniffling sounds were damn-near drowned by her shrieks.

"Why the hell would I wanna shoot you, boy?" Bobby demanded, sounding faintly surprised. "It won't do anything."

"Gabriel informed me that it is a tradition when someone has impregnated your daughter..." Castiel said with a frown.

Bobby rolled his eyes at the archangel, turning away from the three, and walking up the stairs. Deanna would bet the Impala that he was muttering to himself.

Castiel's expression carried a note of anxiety as he glanced between Deanna and Mary. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing," Deanna said immediately, looking down at the sobbing child. "Her diaper isn't full, and we fed her, what, almost half an hour ago? She's probably just bored."

"You often get hungry after you've eaten," said Castiel, clinging to his faint frown.

"Yeah, but that's me. I'm not a three month old baby," Deanna pointed out. It was nice to have a conversation with Cas without it being full of awkwardness, and both of them being on the verge of flipping their shit.

There was an abrupt flip in Castiel's expression, though she couldn't exactly tell what he'd flipped too. It was vague, and far from the traces of concern on his face, darker.

It seemed she'd spoken too soon.

"Human pregnancies take nine months."

Deanna didn't even pretend that she saw where he was going with that. "Yeah. So?"

Castiel's eyes became sharper. "You were carrying our child-" Hearing that made Deanna flinch a little,"- when Lucifier..." suddenly the growing fire behind his eyes went still, cringing away from her. "When I-"

"Don't," Deanna snapped harshly. The fierce edge to her voice made Mary go quiet, shifting closer to her. Tightening her arms around her daughter, Deanna continued. "Don't think about the alley way, or your dickish brother. If you hadn't delayed me from saying yes...well, I doubt Michael is anymore pro-life about half angel babies than he is about human ones."

And didn't that thought just make her want to whoop her own ass for trying in the first place?

There was a disturbed twitch in Castiel's jaw, and he glanced away from her briefly, shame lingering before he boxed it away, and stared at her starkly. "How was your discussion with Bobby Singer?"

Deanna felt vaguely impressed that he'd actually known to ask, easily switching subjects with a snort. "Unresolving," Deanna said with a twist of bitterness in her words. "We'll probably end up yelling at each other about it in a couple of months."

Assuming that Mary was tired, Deanna bent down, laying her daughter on the small cot. Mary blinked at her tiredly, and Deanna couldn't resist stroking her blonde curls before straightening up to stare at Castiel. There was one of his almost-smiles on his chapped lips as his eyes scanned every inch of her face.

The sight of his almost-smile put the lingering anger clinging to her on ice, and made her relax a little. Things were so fucked up now, even more than before, but there had always been something about him that made her chill out. Even when she'd been half convinced he was gonna waste her, back when they'd first met.

"Damnit. I've missed you, you son of a bitch," the words slipped out of her throat faster than she could stop them, utterly true.

Platonically fucked over by her own mouth. Again.

Something eased in Castiel's face, that weird tension that had been clinging to him since that motel room, and he moved a little closer, like a moth to the flame. She'd already burned his wings off once. "I miss you constantly."

"Then why the hell did you leave?" Deanna demanded, not quite hitting the harsh tone she'd wanted.

"Because I was there," Castiel confided in a low voice, staring her straight in the eyes. "I watched from across the street as you chose her. It...hurt to see you with her, so I... refrained from intruding." His eyes did not flicker from hers when he moved closer.

Deanna closed her eyes, pain throbbing in her chest, throat closing up. Deanna felt bitter and raw, tension dancing over her skin, lingering between her shoulder blades, as he came even closer until their toes were almost touching, and she could _smell _him.

The smell of a dawning storm settled heavily in the back over her throat, giving her a weird shivery feeling of vulnerablity.

"You should've said something, man," Deanna gritted out, hating the catch to her voice.

"You needed to make your own choice," Castiel murmured, a faint twist of hurt in his voice. "I understand your feelings about free will."

Running through a dozen or so possible ways to explain to Cas that when she was making dumb decisions that screwed them both over he should friggin' _stop _her, Deanna opened her eyes, catching his intense blue entirely by accident.

The need- longing- is his eyes wasn't entirely innocent, greedy and human and _just_ what she'd been needing to see for the last three months. It hit her hard and fast, and so hard that her vision honest-to-god flickered.

His unneeded breath ghosted over her face, they were so close. Deanna forced herself not to; not to sway forward into him like every instinct of hers begged, not to close her eyes, not to feel the steady spread of arousal and happiness through her.

But she'd never been very smart, so she leaned forward. Just a little. Just enough to make Castiel's intense blue eyes go dark, enough to make him burn for her like she did for him.

"Deanna..." his voice sounded like sex. The roughest sex in the whole world.

Fuck, but she wanted him. And not just for sex. She wanted to do weird and girly relationship things with him, like curl up after sex or let him kiss her sweetly like he'd always tried too.

Castiel's eyes darted to her lips, then uncertainly away. Deanna cupped the back of his neck, attracting his gaze, allowing the desire in his eyes to surpass eleven, before she leaned forward, hand sliding up into his hair, anticipation-so-strong-that-it-felt-like-terror churning in her gut, and touched her lips to his.

The overwhelming taste of him hit her like a train. An electrical storm, just like she remembered, but somehow _more_; stronger. Which, well, _duh_- archangel.

For a moment, Castiel was still against her, inhumanly so, and then he reacted with ninja speed. His strong hands moved up to craddle her face tenderly, body pressing flush against hers, not allowing a mere inch of them not to be touching, and his lips pressed back into hers.

The muscles in his fingers spasmed, clutching at his hair as she made to deepen the kiss- footsteps pounded down the stairs, followed by harsh, frantic breathing, and Deanna cannonballed back into reality.

Abruptly detacting herself from Castiel's lips, Deanna tried to step back. Castiel's arms resisted almost automatically, intent on keeping her there, before he regained his senses, and allowed her to slip away from him again.

"Deanna!" Ben shouted, bursting into the panic room with frantic eyes. He didn't bother to take in their slightly mussed appearences.

"_Dude_-"

"Sam's here."


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Slow-burn Deanna/Castiel, past Deanna/Lisa.  
**Spoilers:** Season 5 and 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Strong violence and swearing. Femslash. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture. A tragic lack of Cas in the first few chapters.  
**Summary: **Always-a-girl!Dean. As Deanna Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. AU series 6. Shockingly long fic. Lisa/Deanna, Castiel/Deanna.

**This chapter was a toughy. I almost gave up more than once - but thanks to the lovely betas, SealedSecrets and Quovadimus83, I managed to carry on, and you have to deal with the spoilers of war. Good luck.**

* * *

"Stay here with Mary," Deanna barked at Ben commandingly, storming past him. She raced up the steps, boots slamming loudly on the creaking wood, and down the hallway.

A deep seething anger urged her onwards, burning white-hot. There was no plan, just livid rage and pain and urgency, drowning any reluctance she might have felt otherwise.

A hook plunged into her stomach, and jerked. Wings fluttered so heavily that Deanna could almost feel the brush of feathers against her, all around her, like a damn preening peacock.

Deanna turned her head automatically, and snarled, "Cas-"

She'd been expected Cas to pop up behind her, like he often did, and try to talk her down, or something. Instead he'd appeared in front of her, not bothering to move out of her way.

Deanna crashed into his chest with a startled curse, head whipping back round so fast that her vision blurred. Castiel's arms gripped her elbows lightly, stopping her from re-bounding off of his freakishly hard chest. It was like walking into a freakin' stone wall.

"You guys really need to learn to walk around a little!" Deanna snapped at him in frustration, moving impatiently around him.

Castiel fell into step with her easily, already anticipating her hurried speed. "What are you planning to do?" he asked, voice containing a calming steadiness.

Deanna didn't _want_ to be calm. She liked being angry just fine, liked feeling that vicious, unpleasant burn, and the relief when it abaited. She just wished Sam would stop giving her reasons to temper it with pansy-ass hurt.

"I'm not," Deanna growled.

There was movement from the corner of her eye as Castiel's face...it wasn't a frown, so much as a fall, like he hadn't been expecting that from her - like _he_, the dude who'd pulled her out of Hell and chose her over everything, didn't get her anymore.

It felt like being sucker-punched in the gut. And the nerves in her lips were still doing an Irish jig, but she _wasn't_ going to think about kissing Cas or slugging him in the face when her brother was so near.

Deanna increased her speed, and Cas matched it, not saying another word, seemingly content in the silence. But the bastard wasn't nearly as clueless as he acted half the time.

The hunter and the archangel reached Bobby's living room in record time to find Bobby sitting at the book covered table looking at Sam, who was leaning against the fire place, clad in his usual plaid and jeans.

"- pretty pissed," Bobby finished warningly.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" Deanna remarked in a forced casual tone as she stepped into the room. Sam straightened up, eyes locked on her, an earnest expression crossing his face.

"Dean-" Sam froze when he finally realized who was standing beside her, a look of surprise shoving his puppy-dog eyes aside.

Deanna felt unreasonably smug about that until she realized how dangerously close to inwardly gloating she was - about Cas, too.

"Hello Sam," the archangel greeted, and his deep voice seemed a little harsher than before.

Deanna glanced at him, but the archangel pretended not to notice her enquiring look.

"_Cas_?" Sam demanded incredulously. "What-" he glanced between them with a baffled expression, but his eyes glinted with calculation when he saw that Cas was practically perched on her shoulder. Like old times. "What are you doing here?"

Deanna and Cas shared a look, green eyes meeting blue. He read her intent perfectly with one quick glance, but the look lingered.

They'd never gotten around to telling Sam about their, uh, _relationship_, and her brother had started to subconsciously block out details of her sex life to stay sane - now wasn't the time to drop that bombshell on him, no matter how much the dick deserved it.

"Visiting," Cas answered smoothly. Not twitching or looking away or looking down like he usually did whenever he tried to lie, Deanna noticed with a twinge of disappointment.

Bobby snorted quietly from his chair, attracting looks from Sam and Cas, and a glare from Deanna.

"I-" Sam looked between them and Bobby, seeming to realize that something else was going on. A look of petulant displeasure clung to his face.

_Not so nice being outta the loop, is it, Sammy_? Deanna thought darkly.

"Deanna," said Sam, regaining his footing, but still pouting. "You didn't tell me you'd seen Cas."

"Tell you?" Deanna demanded instantly, voice rising in fury. A look passed over her brother's face that she really didn't like, feeding her anger into an inferno."Are you freaking kiddin' me?"

"Hey," Bobby interjected following her snarl, just as Sam pushed off the doorway with his bitch-face on. "If you two are gonna argue, then take it outside- I'm done with playing the voice of reason for you two idjits, you're not damn kids anymore."

Deanna's eyes blazed, and her mouth went tight, but she jerked her head in a nod, respecting his wishes. Without needing to ask, Sam turned, and headed for the door.

When she made to follow him, she noticed that Cas looked concerned. Deanna grimaced, rolling her shoulders back with a clear message; _Not now._

Castiel stared at her, tension cracking behind his blue eyes, before he dipped in head in reluctant agreement.

Deanna heard Bobby's sigh, and curse as the door slammed behind her. It'd been a few hours since she'd arrived at Bobby's- how time flies when you're not havin' fun- so the yard was dark. It was damn quiet too.

"Look," Sam cut her off as she whirled on him, ready to tear him a new asshole. "I didn't come here to start a fight, Deanna."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Deanna demanded.

It wasn't that she wanted to spawn a chick-flick moment- especially since she'd been having _way_ too many in the last few months- but she did want answers, and if that meant she had to waddle through a load of emotional bullshit, then she'd have to deal.

Damnit - she needed a fight before she actually started giving a crap about shoes and all that girly shit.

But Sam didn't start preaching about how they were siblings (which she agreed with), and they only had each other (which wasn't quite true anymore), and, oh, god, will you braid my hair, yada, yada, yada like she'd half expected.

Instead he said simply; "I need your help."

Deanna reeled back slightly, feeling his words hit her like a whip, elicting pain as much as anger.

The hunter rarely ever thought _genuinely_ bad things about her brother - when he'd ditched their family in favour of Stanford, or when he was banging Ruby, or tossing back demon blood like it was fucking _noble_ - but this came close to making the list.

Pulling a Houdini on her for a friggin' year, seemingly developing a bastard complex, and then having the balls to demand her help? Yeah.

"The Campbell's-" Sam went on, oblivious to her growing fury.

"_Who_?" demanded Deanna, voice as rough and callused as her hands.

Sam looked annoyed. "They're family. Campbell- like mom, and Samuel. I've been hunting with them-"

"Seriously?" Deanna fought back the urge to start wailing on her brother. The hurt just kept on coming.

"Yeah, seriously." Sam said, scanning her face with a small frown. Then he sighed, looking resigned. "Christian said-"

"_Christian_? Screw Christian!" Deanna exploded, flinging her arms out angrily, voice ringing through the empty junkyard. "I don't give a crap about any of the Campbell's, or their goddamn opinions!"

Sam's expression was surprised into blankness, before being promptly plastered over by shock. "He's our cousin!"

"I don't give a damn!" Deanna growled, searing into her brother with her eyes. "What I give a damn about is you, and your goddamn secrets, and friggin' douchebaggery! Dude, you're starting to remind me of dad!"

Sam's eyes flashed. "Crowley forced me not to tell you!"

Deanna's blood went cold, and her temper iced over quicker than a heartbeat at the name of her once-ally and current enemy.

She'd been lured into an apparently false sense of security by Crowley's inaction after she'd put Meg down, but that didn't mean Deanna had forgotten what Gabriel had warned her about- that the demon king was after _her_ kid.

"Crowley?" Deanna asked, wariness and anger intertwining easily. "What's Crowley got to with us?"

Sam's own temper calmed with her wariness. He didn't seem to find it strange, even though the only demon to ever provoke any outward alarm out of her had been white-eyed and called Alistair.

"He brought Samuel back," said Sam, shaking his head. "He told me on the drive here, that we'd been working _for_ Crowley."

A twist of anger crossed Sam's face, and it fit his expression better than anything else she'd seen from him since he'd jumped into the pit.

"He wants these... creatures - I don't know why- but they're...special. He's been threatening the Campbell's all year," Sam looked at her.

"If they didn't play ball, he'd toss Samuel back to...well, where ever the guy's been spending the last three decades," Deanna finished, going quiet for a moment.

Then she shook her head carelessly. "Well, do tell them that my heart is breaking for him."

Deanna turned, and reached for the door handle. But she already knew there was no way Sam would let it drop that easily - Winchester stubbornness.

"Wait," Sam said. She could feel him moving, about to touch her before thinking better of it when he saw how that made her shoulders stiffen, and her jaw clench.

"I've been trying to think of any possible leads since I got back. I even spent some time thinking it might've been Cas," he huffed out an amused breath, before quickly sobering. "But if Crowley can spring Samuel from the grave..."

Deanna hissed out a breath between clenched teeth. "He can grab you, and you're worried that his little, uh, threat extends to you too." Deanna turned to face him finally, shaking her head slightly. "Samuel was pulled out of Heaven, or the kid friendly version of Hell, not where you went. I don't think Crowley could swing that, but I'll talk to Cas."

"Thanks Deanna," said Sam, hesitating briefly. "But that isn't what I need your help for."

Deanna raised an eyebrow, then rolled her eyes. "Of course not," she muttered cynically.

Always a bigger fish.

Sam snorted quietly. "You remember that Djinn a few years ago?"

"Yeah," Deanna said blankly. "But what..." Sam looked at her, and it dawned on Deanna after a moment. She closed her eyes with a grimace. "Thought we killed that thing?"

_Somethings,_ Deanna reflected dourly, _should really stay ganked._

"We did," Sam said defensively. She didn't have to open her eyes to see his slightly bitchy expression, but she did anyway. "But it has friends."

Deanna screwed up her face for a minute in thought. She knew her brother like the back of her hand, and she could detect the bullshit in his claim that Crowley had been keeping him from telling her- the timeline didn't fit for one thing. But he wasn't lying about the Djinn.

Deanna hated being lied to, especially by her own damned brother, but...well, it was _Sam_ - mister goody-two-shoes. Sure, he'd made some bad calls...a _lot_ of bad calls in the past, but he was still a good kid at heart. He just had crappy decision-making skills.

"Okay," Deanna said, sighed, and resisted the urge to groan. "I'll help you gank this mother."

Sam nodded. "I'll introduce you to the Campbells tomorrow. We are going to be working with them," he added at her distasteful expression.

Deanna raised a skeptical eyebrow with a snort of amusement. "How many hunters does it take to hunt a Djinn?"

"How many blondes does it take to change a light bulb?" Sam retorted, making Deanna grin.

"Screw you."

"Bitch," Sam grinned.

"You stole my line, jerk."

Letting out a puff of laughter, Sam glanced skywards. "I should get back to the motel."

Deanna's smile faded as she was reminded of how much things had changed. "Yeah. I'll tell Bobby you said bye."

Sam smiled a little awkwardly at her, nodding, then he turned, and walked to a grey Dodge.

"Dude!" Deanna exclaimed in horror. "_That_'s your ride?"

Looking puzzled, Sam turned back to her. "Yeah, so?"

"_So_?" Deanna flailed for the right words, shaking her head slightly in outrage. She gestured between the Dodge and the Impala, hoping that Sam wasn't dumb enough not to get it.

"Get outta here," Deanna snapped when Sam's expression remained nonplussed. "You have no soul."

A weird tension flashed across Sam's before he realized she wasn't being completely serious. Her brother shook his head in exasperated amusement, and climbed into his plastic piece of crap.

Deanna watched from the porch as Sam drove away, her outrage fading into a more sober emotion. She hated to see Sam drive away, or to drive away from him herself, and it seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Deanna white-knuckled the banister for a few moments before releasing it, and walking over to her baby. She popped open the trunk, and grabbed an emergency bottle of Jack that she really could've used...yesterday. It could have saved a bar-full of people a trip to A&E.

Shaking her head, Deanna unscrewed the bottle lid, and chugged some of the whiskey. It went down roughly, burning her throat and stomach. Deanna closed her eyes as the burn receded.

A warning tug on her senses made her eyes open. Her voice came out rougher than normal as she rasped, "Want some?"

"No," Castiel said, but took the bottle from her anyway, placing it on the floor.

Castiel was standing in her personal bubble, wearing a netural expression tainted by the faint concern in his eyes, and his trade-mark hints of bemusement. He seemed unbothered by the chill in the air, or how easy to hide in the salvage yard was at night. Deanna let some of her wariness ease - if Cas couldn't sense anything, the area was probably clear.

"Hey."

"Gabriel told me not to let you drink."

"Yeah, well - your brother's a dick," Deanna grumbled. She closed the boot of her car, and sat down on it. After she patted the spot beside her, Cas sat down with her, staring straight ahead, knee touching hers.

_Down, girl,_ Deanna cautioned herself when she felt some life below the belt.

"He inside?"

"No."

Deanna waited a moment to see if he'd say more before remembering who she was sitting with. "Few words short of usefulness there, Cas."

Castiel's head turned, and he pinned her with an ill-humored stare. "Would knowing of Gabriel's whereabouts ease your mind?"

Deanna narrowed her eyes at his tone, and at the glittering...something in his intense blue eyes. "No."

"Why were you drinking?"

Deanna snorted. "Why do you think?"

"Your brother is alive," Castiel said, his head ducking slightly as he held her gaze.

"And apparently thinks I'm dumb enough to buy the shit he's shoving at me." Deanna shook her head, fingers itching for the bottle, but she stilled the impulse.

"You believe Sam is lying to you?"

"I don't know what the hell to believe anymore, Cas," Deanna said, sharp twist of bitter anger in voice. "Sam and Bobby are keeping things from me, I'm a mom, and Gabriel is one pink, sparkly dress away from playing the fairy godmother."

"I don't-"

"Understand that reference," Deanna sighed, eyes rolling skyward. "Yeah."

An uncertain hand reached out, and laid upon her shoulder, as if half expected her to explode. Deanna looked from Castiel's hand to the tentativeness in his eyes, and forced herself to relax before he bolted again.

"You're getting better at that."

* * *

Deanna was jerked out her most recent nightmare by the sound of a soft whimper, flinching guiltily in reflex to the sound. Her hand was faster than her mind, trying to locate the demon-killing knife hidden under her pillow before she realized that she was on Bobby's couch.

Deanna blinked the fuzziness out of her eyes, thoughts flying instantly to Sam - as they still sometimes did, even after a year - before she remembered the last week of her life.

And that Sam hadn't whimpered in years - whined, every goddamned day, but not whimpered. Which left Mary, who she could distantly remember Cas feeding before he'd flown back to Heaven, wearing a distinctly grim expression.

Mary, tucked under her chin, smelling like baby-shampoo, and clutched to her chest with one protective arm, whimpered hungrily again.

"Okay," Deanna said, cracking her neck with a grimace. She was getting too damn old to be sleeping on couches in her clothes. She hoisted Mary onto her hip, stood up, and went into the kitchen to fix the kid a bottle.

"There you go," Deanna said after Mary started hungrily sucking on the baby formula.

Her daughter stared up at her with wide blue eyes, blank of any personality, but she did curl into Deanna's warmth, eyelashes fluttering close.

Mary was beautiful, all blonde curls and wide blue eyes, pale with a small nose. Deanna tough-as-nail Winchester felt her mouth tugging up into a smile, before she ruthlessly suppressed it.

No matter how warming her child's innocence was or how cute the kid was, she needed to be on her guard today.

For some reason, Deanna wasn't too keen on letting Sam know about Mary, or _Gabriel_. Or Cas know about Crowley. And not just because the questions from both would be annoying.

Just as Deanna was wondering at the possibility of conning Bobby into doing that for her - and the colourful rant the request was sure to be answered with- Ben walked down the stairs, completely ignoring the fact that it looked to be about 6am, and declared, "I don't care if you're banging him."

Deanna flinched back in complete surprise, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and why, why, why did it have to happen to her?

"Not that I think you are," Ben added at her astonished expression. "But, you know, if you _wanted_ to...then, yeah. I mean, _yeah_, it's grossly disrespectful since..." Pain flashed across Ben's face, shattering his attempt at flippancy.

The kid swallowed thickly, ready to carry on before Deanna abruptly realized what the hell was happening, and interjected, in a mildly horrified tone, "Dude, stop talking."

Ben looked at her in a way that really made her feel for the kid. "You keep getting lost in each other's eyes, and it's really creepy, and I _know_ you still like him-"

"Ben," Deanna cut him off, unsure of how to deal with a ten year old boy trying to tell her that she could screw whoever she wanted, even though his mom died a week shy of _two goddamn months_ ago.

Deanna wasn't sure if it made her want to laugh or cry, or some twisted combination of both.

"But-"

"I'm not gonna lie to you about me and Cas, but I really..." Deanna hesitated, cradling Mary in her arms. Closing her eyes briefly, she forced the words out; "_Cared_...about your mom. And you don't need to say this shit, because I know you aren't okay with it."

Ben gave her a surprised look that made Deanna scoff. "C'mon, buddy, I lie professionally. But, uh, anyway - me and Cas aren't...look, that's just not gonna happen, okay?"

Deanna tried to conviently forget that she'd _already_ kissed Cas, and that it was almost certain to happen again. It wasn't that she didn't care about Lisa, because she genuinely, honestly did - she was just a pathetic, lousy excuse for a human being.

Ben let out a relieved breath, unaware of the guilt surging inside of Deanna. "I didn't want you to feel bad..."

"Yeah," Deanna said, clearing her throat uncomfortably. They were reaching whole new levels of socially awkward, and she was quickly discovering that Ben had a certain talent in making her realize that she _was _the worst piece of shit in the world by complete accident. "I get that, buddy, and it's cute, really, but can we please cut the martyr crap?"

Ben looked at her, all mature and trust and naive hero-worship in his brown eyes. "You hypocrite."

He didn't mean it like an insult or as an accusation, but it made Deanna flinch anyway.

Ben was a ticking time bomb, fixed on 'repress now, deal later' since they'd left Cicero - Deanna _knew_ the look. It wouldn't be long before he realized who'd gotten his mom killed, and started to hate her.

* * *

Deanna left Ben sitting on the couch, spooning fruit-loops into his mouth, watching cartoons like he wasn't the _weirdest_ kid in the world, and Bobby grumpily fawning over Mary in the guise of checking on her hunting gear.

Deanna needed some breathing space before she choked on the domestic atmosphere - like Lisa wasn't already on her mind, after that disturbing talk with Ben.

Barely a moment had passed in blissful silence as she leaned against her baby, and tried to pretend that she wasn't completely screwed in the head, before a blood-boilingly familiar British accent came from behind her, "Well, if it isn't my favourite hunter."

Deanna whirled around and whipped out her gun in the exact same breath.

Crowley stood several feet away from her and her baby, wearing the usual black suit and smug smile. Deanna barely had time to aim before the British bastard disappeared, re-appeared in front of her, and clocked her one.

"Son of a bitch!" Deanna shouted, immediately taking a swing at him. Her lip throbbed viciously, bleeding a steady stream of red blood.

Crowley reeled backwards, grabbing her fist, and twisting it around behind her back. Deanna grunted in pain, as the demon slammed her into the side of her baby, pinning her to the car by leaning all of his weight on her.

"Quite," he agreed, sounding polite about it too. Deanna snarled and grunted at him, struggling to free herself.

Crowley sighed at her like she was a jumped up kid on a sugar high, and damn-near wrenched her arm out of it's socket, drawing another pained noise from her.

The demon pressed himself forcefully against her back, so that her face was slammed against the roof of her car. "Shh, petal - I didn't come here to nab your little angel-spawn."

Deanna responded to that with several colorful curse words that could have made her dad blink, and wash her mouth out with soap.

"Oooh. I'm tempted to do your lover a favour and spank all that profanity out of you," Crowley said, like he wasn't gayer than YMCA. Deanna jerked her elbow back into his ribs, rewarded with a sharp hiss.

Taking advantage of Crowley's distraction, the hunter stomped on his foot, whirling around, and decking him one in the mouth. Crowley let out a shout of pain, stumbling backwards. Deanna slammed her boot into his stomach, balled her fist and punched him in the stones.

"Ahh!" Crowley snarled, hitting the floor. Enraged, Deanna kicked him in the face, putting as much force into the blow as she possibly could. Crowley landed on his back - and kicked at her, size 10 shoes sinking into her stomach.

Deanna choked on her breath, staggering backwards, clutching her stomach. It was a brief distraction, but Crowley took full advantage of that, flying to his feet and ramming her into the side of the Impala again.

Crowley's coffee-like eyes were full of a wild fury, red face set into an expression of livid rage, but he didn't attack her again. "Listen to me, moron! I'm trying to save your worthless arse!"

Deanna barked out a harsh, painful breath that sounded a little like laughter. "Oh, please. I know about your little deal with Samuel."

"Oh, do you now?" Crowley demanded, not quite sneering. His voice had slipped back into the same cultured, calm tone. "You've spoken to Sam, then? Noticed anything different about him, have you?"

"What?" Deanna snarled with automatic outrage.

"I didn't bring him back, but I know that he didn't come back completely," Crowley gloated, relishing his words. "His soul's still in the cage with Michael and Daddy."

Deanna stilled. Unbidden, little inconsistances she'd noticed about her brother rose to her mind. Hastily, she reminded herself that Crowley was a demonic son of a bitch that wanted to tear her daughter into little pieces - he was using this as a distraction.

A half cocky smirk rose to her lip, denial replacing the burning fury in her eyes. "You're lying."

"Demons can sense their own, petal," Crowley whispered in her ears. "And your brother is as good as right now."

Then his hands moved roughly down her sides, until they reached the demon-killing knife. One hand wrapped around the handle, the other went to her neck when she tried to lurch forward.

"Gotcha."

"Guess again."

The demon jerked forward suddenly with another shout of pain. Being taller than him, holy water spalshed onto Deanna's tight tank top.

With a snarl of rage, and the sizzle of burning skin, Crowley whirled around to reveal Ben, who was holding a holy water balloon in one hand. Panic caught in Deanna's throat as Crowley jerked his hand at the kid, sending Ben flying into a near-by truck with a cry of pain.

Deanna's arm flew back, ripping the demon-killing knife from her waistband, and slicing towards Crowley's neck within the same second.

Thin air parted around her blade with a wooshing sound - Crowley wasn't dumb enough to stick around after giving her enough wiggle room to reach her weapon.

Shoving the knife into her waistband, Deanna pushed off her baby, and ran across the yard to Ben, who was sitting up and groaning by the time she reached him. Deanna grabbed the kid's head, frantically inspecting him for wounds. There were none - he would have a nasty bump, but he wasn't even bleeding.

Some of Deanna's worry ebbed away.

"You alright, buddy?"

"Uh - yeah," said Ben, sounding surprised by her display of concern. He blinked up at her with wide brown eyes. "Are you?"

Deanna hesitated before crushing the kid briefly to her chest. "Yeah, yeah." She released the astonished boy, ruffling his hair, careful to avoid the bruising area. "Thanks to you."

Ben's cheeks turned pink at her gruff praise, causing him to duck his head. "I was going to see if you needed any help, when I heard..."

Deanna stiffened. "How much did you hear?"

"Do you believe him?" Ben's question answered hers.

"Demons lie."

"But do you believe him?"

Deanna wanted to say no. She needed to say no, to believe Sam was still her geeky brother - so what if he was acting a little weird? Hell changed people, let alone being used and abused by Lucifer. Besides she was hardly acting like the cocky little shit she'd been before her stint in Hell.

It was garbage, complete bullshit. But something inside of her refused to let her dismiss Crowley's words as the lie that it had to be.

"Let's get inside," Deanna found herself saying. "We should tell Bobby that you just kicked your first demon's ass."

Ben looked at her for a moment. "Can I have a beer?"

Deanna scoffed at the thought. "Give it a few years."


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Slow-burn Deanna/Castiel, past Deanna/Lisa.  
**Spoilers:** Season 5 and 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Strong violence and swearing. Femslash. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture. A tragic lack of Cas in the first few chapters.  
**Summary: **Always-a-girl!Dean. As Deanna Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. AU series 6. Shockingly long fic. Lisa/Deanna, Castiel/Deanna.

**I can't believe this chapter took over a **_**month**_** to write. This one really kicked my ass, as I'm unused to writing Sammy, and I've yet to actually watch more than a few clips of season six. But, anyway, enjoy!**

**With love to my college buddy, Adriana, and far-but-fond quovadimus83.**

* * *

The Impala sped down the highway, chasing Sam's plastic piece of crap. It was a hot day, the windows were rolled down, wind stirring up her hair wildly and making the dark blonde shine like tarnished gold.

Cas sat beside her, eyes switching between tracking the strands of her hair and studying her face.

Deanna usually went for big guys with dangerous grins but it was difficult to remember that she couldn't kiss him until he was wild-eyed and so hard for her that he couldn't control his own strength anymore. He looked good in the sun; hot, handsome.

Her insides burned with a familiar heat, and she inwardly cursed herself for being so easy, so dickish and sex-obsessed and ungrateful to Lisa.

"What happened to your face?" Cas asked in his deep, growling voice.

"Crowley," Deanna responded shortly, licking the split in her lip absently. Her eyes were fixed on the road, but she could feel Cas shifting beside her, his gaze boring into the side of her face.

"Are you alright?" the concern in his voice was real and unhidden, rubbing an already irate Deanna in exactly the wrong way.

"Not as bad as it looks," Deanna snapped aggressively. Remembering Crowley's words, she flitted a look at the archangel, anger taking a backseat."But he, uh...said something about Sam."

Castiel (surprise, surprise) stared at her sharply.

Deanna looked away first, feeling something creeping down her spine, burning low and hot in her stomach whenever she looked at his face, his eyes. The hunter cleared her throat, glaring at the road. "About Sam's soul - that he doesn't _have _one."

There was a pause, and it weighed heavily on Deanna, a hailstorm of emotions in her stomach, all pretty goddamn intent to find out if something was wrong with Sammy, drowning out everything else.

There was a movement from the corner of her eye, and a soft hand touching her face like she was something precious, not a badass hunter with an A in demon-killing. Deanna's hands jerked on the wheel in surprise, making the Impala swerve sharply.

"Whoa! Cas!" the dim throb in her lip inceased, and then vanished entirely as the archangel healed her busted lip. Deanna hurriedly got her driving under control. "Give a girl some warning!"

Cas stared at her with solemn eyes, and his uncallused hand remained on her face, lingering in a way that made her burn with conflict, stomach swooping weirdly. "You needn't suffer unnecessarily."

"Well - " Deanna hesitated, licking her suddenly dry lips, unsure of exactly how to respond to that, and settled for dismissive. "Yeah, okay. But, dude, you gotta give me a little warning before you go around groping my face, 'else I'll pull a gun on you."

Castiel stared at her, something in his expression screamed 'mildly amused at your human ways'. "As I told Bobby, it won't have any effect on me."

"Yeah, but it might traumatize a few civilians - or the runts." There was a softening in Cas' flat expression that Deanna tried not to give a crap about. "Speaking of runts, about Sam...?"

Cas tilted his head at her, like a startled owl or something. "Sam is taller than you."

"_Cas_," Deanna snapped, recognizing his lame-ass distraction tactic. "What the hell is with you, man? I know you weren't too fond of the guy back when he was screwing Ruby but I figured things had changed."

Cas looked away, watching the highway pass by. Deanna flickered her eyes between him and Sam's car in front of her, not planning on losing her brother anytime soon.

"It isn't that," Cas said eventually, seemingly absorbed in staring at the hit-and-run animal bloodstains some drunken hick had caused.

"Then what is it?"

"It's very hypocritical of me," he confessed but there was no shame in his voice. "But he hurt you."

"You're damn right that's hypocritical of you," Deanna said in defense of her brother but she reached blindly over to forcefully pat Cas' shoulder to show that, hey, no hard feelings. "But I guess that's a Christian thing, huh, buddy?"

Deanna turned her head to grin at him and, despite the edge of disapproval in his eyes, Cas gave her one of his not-so-rare almost smiles in return.

What she felt for Cas was strong - raw and battered and pissed as hell, but intense and steady. Their bond was beaten and tarnished by both of their fuck ups and mistakes, but Deanna didn't feel like it wasn't worth the pain, like they couldn't fix it.

And that scared the shit out of her more often than not - but now? Not so much.

Deanna gunned the engine, and they sailed down the highway, wind roaring in their ears.

* * *

"Okay," Deanna started, surveying the ordinary grey building Sam had lead her too. It wasn't remarkable, but it sure as hell wasn't the run-down dive she'd been expecting him to show her. "Why are we casing Cooperation Douche-bag?"

Sam was sitting in the passenger seat, frowning at the building, and the familiarity of it made Deanna's breath catch with delight and old pain. "This Djinn isn't like the other one."

"What?" Deanna asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "_How_? _How_ is it not like the Djinn I ganked?"

"Because as far as me and Samuel can tell, it has a job. And it _looks_ human," Sam added at the expression on her face, realizing that she was recalling the glowing-blue-tattooed-freak. "It can blend in."

"Awesome," she commented.

"And all they gotta do to kill you is touch you. Their toxins get into your system, and all of a sudden you're hallucination your worst nightmares."

"I remember that part pretty well," said Deanna grimly, recalling how rocky her relationship with _that _Sam had been. "If this thing is after me, then why is it hanging around South Dakota?"

"Trying to find you after you left Lisa's," said Sam. "It isn't a secret that Bobby's our strongest ally."

Hearing Lisa's name said so casually was like a punch to the stomach, and quick flashes of memory danced through Deanna's head before she could crush them. It hurt, almost as much as remembering that, after all of the shit they'd been through, Sam and Bobby had been keeping her in the fucking dark.

"How do we find this thing?" Deanna asked forcefully, staring at the flock of people going in and out of the building. "It's gotta be like finding the crazy dude in a pack of hunters."

Sam let out a faint, distracted snort, scanning the crowd with narrow eyes. "Not exactly - it'll be a lot easier."

Deanna stared at him, waiting for a deeper explanation. "Not exactly?" she prompted when he failed to pick up on the bolder-sized hint that Cas could've seen.

Instead of answering, Sam jerked his head at the crowd of people leaving the building. Annoyed, Deanna did so.

A hot chick with curly black hair was walking with a balding dude and another dude - she was way out of their league. All _three _of their heads were turned towards the Impala.

"Holy..." Deanna shook her head, exchanging her curse for a quip, "Guess this means we gotta mug little Bo-Peep."

"If you don't have a stake, we can borrow one from the Campbells," Sam offered absently.

"Already have one, Sam," Deanna grunted, glancing at him then back out the window. "Besides if I wanted to be on Oprah, I'd..."

Sam stared at her, a faint frown on his face. "What?"

Deanna shrugged it off with a tight smile. "Forget about it. Wasn't that funny anyway."

"Since when has that stopped you?" Sam asked, unconvinced but he stopped staring at her in favour of watching the Djinn.

Deanna allowed her smile to fall into a grimace.

Instincts or not, Crowley's bullshit or not, she'd have to tell her brother about the runts eventually. She was really starting to miss the little guys.

With a spike of worry, Deanna drummed her fingers on the dash and wondered how Bobby was coping with Mary (who was always especially bitchy in the afternoon) and Ben (who was just plain weird at times).

"We should come back later," Sam said eventually, glancing at her. "But until then-"

"They're gonna follow us," said Deanna, mostly to avoid meeting the Campbells.

She already hated the Christian dude, her brother's new hunting BFF, and if she met the guy in person, she'd probably take a swing at him. Sooner or later.

"So?" said Sam, shrugging. "The Campbells are hunters, like us. It wouldn't be a tragedy to lead the Djinn there, and we could use the back-up."

"Yeah, but we don't need it." Seeing him pull a Bitchface, Deanna cocked an eyebrow at him challengingly and added recklessly, "What's a few Djinn compared to the Devil, huh, Sammy?"

Sam stared at her expression for a moment before his gaze flickered to the Djinn. And he smiled, just a little quirk to the mouth, but it was there, and it was amazing to see. "Okay. So, we hang at a bar - "

"Not a bar," said Deanna. It would've been nice to toss a couple of beers back with brother but she'd already beaten one bar full of people into a pulp. "We have to find somewhere empty and wait it out there."

Deanna gave a cocky, devil-may-care grin. "Church or that empty jail a few miles back?"

To Deanna's slight surprise, Sam 'Goody-Two-Shoes' Winchester hesitated, almost like _he_ wanted to trash a church too. "Jail."

Glancing back to see the three Djinn entering a crappy white car, Deanna started her car up and began driving to an old abandoned police station they'd passed by.

* * *

Breaking into a police station was just as easy as Deanna remembered busting out to be. The two hunters did a quick sweep of the place, just to make sure that no dumbass teenagers were lurking around like a bona fide horror movie.

Since jails were usually haunting grounds for pissed off spirits, they checked the place out on the web and with the EMF. After making sure the place was clean, Sam sat down on an old desk while Deanna remained standing, pacing a little, and awkwardness soon crept in.

Not wanting to talk about the big steaming pile of betrayal Sam had left on her doorstep, Deanna searched for a subject, absently passing the wooden stake soaked in lamb blood from hand-to-hand.

"So," said Deanna eventually, grinning wide and lewdly, "Bang any hot chicks lately?"

"Actually..." Sam dragged the word out a little while the female hunter's eyebrows arched in surprise, "Yes."

"Whoa," Deanna chuckled, pulling an impressed face. "Way to go, man."

"Bar chicks," said Sam, alluding to her favourite kind of people.

"Love 'em and leave 'em, huh, Sammy?"

The concept was pretty weird for Sam but it wasn't like Deanna, who had been bed-hopping since before she'd been legal, didn't understand the urge to just blow some steam off with a hot stranger.

And, yeah, okay, when an Angel of the Lord was getting laid more often than her brother, it started to become more pathetic than hilarious.

"There's no reason to stick around," said Sam dismissively with a shrug.

Just then, a deliberately loud creak echoed through the dusty old building.

The green-eyed woman stilled, grip tightening on the stake, and Sam slowly rose from the counter he'd been sitting on.

A long silence followed. But, using ears finely tuned from years of hunting, Deanna could pick up the faint scuff of footsteps on the floor - three different pairs, out of tune with the each other.

The hunter's body went tense, muscles coiling together, a low thrum of anticipation and adrenaline in her gut, working its way through her body.

Licking her bottom lip, she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Sam had taken a step forward, and Deanna gave one sharp jerk of her head to stop him from taking another.

Sam's mouth tightened in resentment but he listened, putting his gigantic ass into park.

A low angry growl came from behind the doorway, and then a black and white blur was flying at Deanna, who dodged quickly - but not quick enough to save herself the fall. A heavy weight slammed into her chest, flooring her.

"Deanna!" Sam exclaimed.

Not wasting a second, Deanna drew her legs in and let them uncoil like a spring, almost donkey kicking the hot chick off her a heatbeat before the Djinn's bare skin made contact with hers. "Bitch!"

One of the dudes ninjaed out of the dark, crashing into Sam, who had more than a foot on him in height and twice that in muscle. But Deanna couldn't keep her eye on her nerdy brother for long as Black Hair came at her with Baldie for back-up.

The woman's fist hit her jaw, sending a shock of pain through her, then her claws lunged for Deanna's chin. Jerking her head back violently, Deanna smashed her jacket-clad elbow into the bitch's temple to disorientate her, and lept to her feet to throw one of her infamous right hooks at Baldie.

Baldie ducked under her fist, grabbing and twisting, almost twisting her around, sparks of pain shooting up her wrist, but then Deanna got a lucky shot between his legs.

Face crumpling in agony, Baldie went down, and Deanna plunged the stake remorselessly into his back, where his heart should be. A soft choked sound of pain escaped his mouth.

"NO!" Black Haur popped up with a feral scream of rage and agony, slamming her shoulder into Deanna's waist.

Deanna yelled wordlessly in pain as she was propelled backwards, back crashing into the wall with bruising force. Cobwebs and dust tumbled from the ceiling, making the hunter cough harshly.

Or maybe that was Black Hair's hand, pushing Deanna up the wall until her feet dangled while _slowly_ crushing her throat. Not slipping her a magical-roofie, just strangling her.

Panicked, reacting on instinct as her skin began to tingle, Deanna grabbed frantically at the Djinn's hands. Black Hair's grip tightened, mouth twisting into a snarl.

"My brother..." she hissed softly, enraged. Deanna struggled, gasping desperately for air. "My _father_..."

And didn't that just bring back some awesome memories? Deanna let out a pained grunt as the Djinn tightened her grip.

"You killed them," she - it - snarled. "And now I'm going to kill you. And _your_ brother," Black Hair finished, a dark satisfaction on her face that Deanna had seen on too many faces - her own, Sam's, recently, Ben's...

Ben, Mary, _Sam_.

A bolt of energy pulsed through her, catapulting her back into action. Betraying her instincts, Deanna stopped her hands from clawing at the female Djinn's, and threw a weak punch at the bitch's face.

The Djinn caught it easily, remaining hand picking up the pressure, and she let out a sneering laugh. "Weak," she announced in a hard voice. "You are - "

Deanna glared at the Djinn, her face stone-cold and hard as she easily looped a leg around the bitch's knee, and _kicked_. The Djinn lost her balance, crashing to the floor.

Not wasting the time landing would take, Deanna threw her shoulders back and bounced off the wall, over the Djinn, 'accidentally' kicking her in the head. Sparing Sam and the other Djinn a glance only to see them struggling but Sam could handle it for the moment, she grabbed her disgarded stake out of Baldie.

Deanna whirled around to see the Djinn back on its feet, leaning against the wall, glaring, face full of hatred.

"You mons- " she growled.

And Deanna was _there,_ staking her in one fluid move. The Djinn's mouth parted, an almost surprised expression fluttering over her face as she fell back into the wall, a shocked sigh leaving her mouth...

Her body slid down the wall, and the hunter turned around again.

Sam and the Djinn were still grappling, but within the few seconds it took Deanna to gank the chick, things had changed. Instead of the Djinn trying to push the stake away from its chest, Sam was clutching the Djinn's wrist, teeth gritted, muscles bulging weirdly, trying to force the hand away from his face.

"SAM!"

The Djinn laid its hand on her brother's cheek just as Deanna lurched forward, horror struck. But nothing happened - Sam didn't begin to grey, or whatever the hell she or the Djinn had been expecting.

Instead, he bared his teeth in a snarl, punched the stunned Djinn to the floor, and stabbed viciously down, ramming the stake through the creature so hard that blood splattered his face.

His breathing was harsh as he almost reluctantly straightened up to face her, calmly wiping the blood from his face.

Sam met her stunned stare with a similar coolness. "Something wrong?"

Deanna carved a smile onto her face, though her blood was cold with fear for her brother, who she'd already lost way too many times, and her insides were knotted together in dread and suspicion. "I don't know about you, but I could really use a beer."

* * *

"So," said Deanna, taking a swig of her requested beer, pursing her lips in approval at the taste. "How come the Djinn's love-tap didn't work on you?"

The Campbells were squatting in a run-down house not far from the old jail. So far her relatives had turned out to be a bunch of freaks - a douche-bag, a mute, a lady that thought she was 'cute', an old guy zombie.

And whatever the hell might be up with Sam this year.

Across the table from her, Samuel Campbell smiled at her like a creepy uncle, and every instinct of Deanna's was telling her to get the fuck outta there. Instead she summoned up a fake-ass smile.

Sam shrugged in response to her question, eyebrows raising to convey puzzlement. "I don't know."

"Mm-huh," Deanna hummed with blatant skepticism. "Okay."

Irritation crossed Sam's face, and his eyebrows went back down. "I don't. I mean - I've been in Hell, it could be that. Or it could be something else. I don't know, Deanna."

Samuel straightened in his chair a little to offer yet another clue to the _bursting_ group of them Sam was tossing out. "You could still be protected by the cure."

"Whoa." Deanna raised a hand to stall them. "Whoa," she repeated, feeling it deserved her best effort. Her eyebrows moved high up her forehead. "Cure? What cure?"

Deanna witnessed the glance Sam and Samuel exchanged with annoyance bubbling under her skin.

"To the Djinn's venom," said Samuel, returning his eyes to her.

"Yeah, _that _I guessed. I didn't know a Djinn cure existed."

"Oh, I know a few things," said Samuel braggingly. "Stick around and I'll show you a few things your daddy never even dreamed of."

"Uh-huh." Unconvinced, Deanna glanced between the two. Her bullshit detecter was finely honed, and she definitely remembered checking out an assload of Djinn lore as a kid and with Sam.

A rush of anger filled her. How much of an idiot did Sam think she was? Sure, she hated research, liked to drink and screw around, but that didn't mean she had a swish cheese brain.

Part of her wanted to start raging at the two of them but Deanna stilled the impulse, realizing that she was outnumbered. But a worse realization punched her in the face; all the lies and the Djinn crap suggested that maybe, just maybe, Crowley wasn't lying.

Her Sammy walking around as a soulless monster. The thought made her fucking sick straight to the stomach. She should've done something, said yes to Michael and killed the Devil before Sam could even consider consenting.

"Say..." the hollow smile was unchanging on her face. "Did you take care of that Wendigo back in Minnesota?"

Sam blinked at her change of subject, looking so genuine and human that Deanna started to hope that she was just going crazy...

"No. We went straight after you."

Deanna's blood turned to ice, her stomach twisted with the confirmination. She felt like hurling, she felt like screaming and beating the shit out of him for making her think that she'd gotten her brother back after a year, lies or no.

She almost missed Sam leaning forward to look at her earnestly, continuing. "I wanted us to patch things up. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Sammy." The affectionate pet-name curdled on her tongue.

* * *

Demons lied; always. No matter what or how they span something, it was all bullshit. Meg, Ruby, Crowley. Deanna was the Winchester sibling that didn't fall for their bullshit tricks but her willingness to blindly believe the shit Sam was shoving took a serious hit after the demonic skank.

Hell could do a number on anyone, and, okay, sure, maybe that was the reason the Djinn's dream-world crap hadn't worked on Sam - because he didn't _want_, like how Famine's mojo hadn't worked on her - but letting a Wendigo run loose was a pretty good indicator.

Pulling into Bobby's scrapyard, Deanna stormed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her and turning towards the house. Cas was already outside, Mary in his arms.

"Cas?"

Then she blinked, and he was _there, _like an inch away from her, and _glaring_ at her like she'd she'd talked smack about his Dad again. Deanna recoiled automatically, and he followed her, eyes blazing, hair and trenchcoat rippling from an unexpected gust of wind.

He looked far too impressive and scary than a man holding a baby should be.

"Dude! What the he - "

"Why did you not inform me about Crowley?" he growled, ditching modern speak entirely.

Deanna would have assumed he meant about this morning if not for the telling but entirely unconscious way Cas adjusted their girl to his chest, slight arms clutching her protectively.

"Who told you? Gabriel?"

"Ben," was his terse reply.

Deanna was willing to bet, going by the heat in his eyes, that if he hadn't have been holding Mary their conversation would be more of a gripped arms, glaring eyes and agonizing sexual tension thing. Which...was a good thing.

That, you know, they _weren't_ doing that. Her self-control was pretty poor.

"I was - "

"But you didn't," he snapped, cutting across her ruthlessly.

"I didn't have the time!" Deanna growled back, snapping out of her shock at how terrifying and hot Cas looked to defend herself. A year old frustration and abandonment and hurt all boiled over. "And if you'd have been here before, this wouldn't have been a problem!"

Cas...flinched, mouth drawn and eyes flashing with a raw, shocked hurt, like he hadn't expected it. He stopped glaring and glowering and looming at her, and just...

It made her chest ache with sudden shock of pain, her stomach sour with guilt and, shit. Like she didn't feel bad about enough between Lisa and Ben and Sam and all those souls in Hell. And every-fucking-thing inbetween.

"I didn't..." she cleared her throat, unable to unstick the apology from her throat. "I think Crowley was right about Sam's soul."

Before she could explain, Cas interrupted her in a quiet strong voice. "I am more concerned with our child."

"That..." _isn't important right now_, a huge part of Deanna raged. But the words stuck like bile in her throat, tasting like ashes and self-disgust and _wrong._

If there was one thing that Deanna was completely, utterly, earth-shakingly sure about, it was that Sam - her greeky brother, her partner-in-crime, her responsibility - was more important than anything else in the whole goddamn world.

The conviction had stayed solid through all of Sam's abandonments and Ruby and forty years of torture and _Hell_; it wasn't about to break now.

But a more recent truth was taking hold, rooting itself just as deeply into her screw-up mind as the first: _Mary was too_.

"Bobby's place is as demon-proof as it gets," she said instead, glancing down at her boots. There was maybe an inch between her and Cas. The back of the Impala pressed against her thighs.

Following her gaze, Cas backed off a little, still way too deep in her personal space. "Yet Crowley has already gained access."

Deanna cracked her neck before pushing off the Impala. "Unless you've got a secret bag of angel tricks hidden up your sleeve, there's nothing we can do about that, sweetheart."

The term of endearment slipped so throughtlessly out of her mouth that the hunter didn't realise she'd said it until Cas' stiff expression relaxed a little.

Then he seemed to have a Eureka moment. "There is a way to ward against demons indefinitely."

"Really? Huh." That was unusually lucky for them. A sudden thought hit Deanna, making her eyebrows jump up. "Wait, why haven't you done this before?"

"It requires power I did not possess until recently," Cas replied, a little flick of pride in his voice.

Deanna remembered his words about the archangels back when he was just a low-level grunt, the wariness and faint touches of awe in his voice - nigh unheard of way back then. "Awesome," she grinned. "Guess there are some perks to hanging with an archangel."

"Many," he responded, holding her gaze almost promisingly. A fizzle of heat snapped into existance, burning through her blood.

Deanna's tongue darted out of her mouth to wet her lip, and, bingo, his eyes flickered to the movement.

And then Cas turned his head away, shifting Mary in his arms as though to remind himself that she was still there, unusually peaceful and unreactive to raised voices. He was probably keeping their daughter under while he tore her a new one.

"This will be easier now that you have a permanent residence."

The word 'permanent' automatically raised Deanna's hackles, "We're not sticking around for long."

Cas accepted this without question, though he did look faintly...

"Okay. I'm guessing cock-blocking all these all demons is something only an archangel has the mojo to do?"

Cas hesitated at her wording. "Yes."

"But it drains if you do it often enough? Which you can't afford because the Ninja Turtle is kicking your ass."

Looking his version of annoyed at her description of his civil war, Cas said, "I cannot spare the energy to ward all of your motel rooms."

"Uh-huh," Deanna said, figuring there would be a catch to something so useful. "How about you ward the Impala..." she trailed off, realizing that Cas wasn't the only archangel on her shoulder. Though Gabriel had been oddly absent since he'd shown up. "We could ask Gabriel to ward Bobby's?"

There was an irritating tug on her insides just as Cas frowned a little at her suggestion, followed by the obnoxious flutter of wings and a drawling voice that caused Deanna's blood pressure to spike automatically, "I've been _wondering_ when you crazy kids would call!"

Deanna and Cas turned their heads at exactly the same time to look at the short, blond archangel.

Gabriel leered at their positions, taking in how close they stood, how Deanna was just about pinned to her car, and he practically inhaled the tension in the air. "Am I interrupting something?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: **Consequnces.  
**Pairing:** Slow-burn Deanna/Castiel, past Deanna/Lisa.  
**Spoilers:** Season 5 and 6.  
**Words:** Too many. Way too many.  
**Warnings:** Strong violence and swearing. Femslash. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture. A tragic lack of Cas in the first few chapters.  
**Summary: **Always-a-girl!Dean. As Deanna Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. AU series 6. Shockingly long fic. Lisa/Deanna, Castiel/Deanna.

**This chapter is a little bitch but I've been unraveling the plot, so hopefully the next chapter should be smoother.**

**And there's a little smutty side-fic to 'Consequences' posted on this site if you're interested.**

* * *

"Gabriel," said Deanna with a frown, shifting against the Impala. With Cas walling her in, there wasn't a whole lot she could do about moving. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Still smirking, Gabriel gave a flamboyant shrug. "I heard your name dropping and I decided to drop by. Heaven is such a drag. You wouldn't believe the whining! 'Where in Father's name have you been the last millennia?' 'What in Lucifier's name is Casa Erotica?'"

The archangel's caramel eyes darted to his younger brother's serious deadpan face, and his naturally smug grin widened impossibly. "And what can I say? I missed the extended fam!"

Gabriel darted forward, widening the tiny gap between Deanna and Castiel, smoothly stealing Mary from her father's slight arms.

Cas' eyes darkened further, though his expression remained placid. Deanna saw his long talented fingers curl into loose fists before forcibly relaxing.

Then Gabriel took advantage of her distraction to curl a sly arm around her waist, gripping her hipbone, and yanking her into his side. Castiel expression darkened, just a little.

"_Gabriel_," he said warningly. An unnaturally strong breeze whipped through the yard.

Pissed, Deanna grabbed the archangel's arm and forcibly removed it. "If you want a face full of lead all you gotta do is ask."

She snatched Mary from his arms and, proving that the two archangel's were either a lot more graceful than her or using their creepy mojo, the baby woke up with a grumpy snuffling noise.

Adjusting her daughter properly as Gabriel continued to laugh and Cas glowered at his sibling, Deanna reminded herself that gunshots made her already grumpy daughter reach Sam-levels of bitchiness and returned to the topic at hand.

"Okay, okay. You heard - so can you do it?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes at her question, "Well, duh. Of course, I can do it!" He smirked at her, like it was nine months ago. "Say please and I just might lend a hand."

The door swung open behind him, Ben and Bobby walked out.

Ben darted forward to hug the hunter briefly, snatching Mary from her arms.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, looking Gabriel over with skepticism, clearly remembering their run-in with the Trickster. "So I'm guessin' you'd be Gabriel, then?"

Gabriel opened his arms with a smug flourish. "The one and only." He eyed Bobby in his greasy, dirty clothes and trucker cap. "And you're Bobby Singer, the brain behind Dumb and Dumber."

Mary snuffled, worming agitatedly in Ben's arms. Ben rocked her absently, watching Gabriel and Bobby with poorly veiled anticipation.

Deanna caught Cas' striking blue eyes, angling her head slightly to the side. He caught her indication instantly and when she started to walk quietly away from the group, he followed her through the intricate piles of cars without a word.

His unasked obedience piled more and more tension on her with every passing moment. Deanna stopped walking when it became unbearable, and Cas stopped too, perfectly in-tune with her.

"I get that you're still pissed about the Crowley thing, really, I do," said Deanna, staring deeply into her archangel's electric eyes. "But somethin''s up with Sam."

Deanna went to tell him but the words caught painfully in her throat. Guilt, pain and useless anger whirled around inside of her, always fierce but growing weary. Damnit, there had been some close shaves over the last six years but not like this.

There was a chance - a good chance, _more_ than a chance - that Sammy, the floppy-haired kid she'd raised, was soulless.

Her throat burned with bile, and she rubbed at her eyes, trying to pretend the notion didn't kill her. "Damnit."

Cas moved forward a little, just shy of touching her - she could tell by the way her skin tingled all over, the ghost of warmth and memories brought a reaction out of her every damn time but it wasn't quite enough to comfort her.

She dropped her hand wearily to see Cas watching her quietly, head tilted questioningly to the side. "Deanna?"

"Sam doesn't have a soul," she gritted out forcibly, raising her head and squaring her jaw like it didn't touch her.

Cas' already guarded posture went rigid. "Why would you think that?"

"Mostly because the Djinn poison didn't work on him." Realizing how lame that sounded, Deanna grimaced a little.

Cas looked...unsettled. "It is possible - "

"That it's just a fluke?" Deanna cut him off. "Believe me, Cas, there's definitely something up with Sam."

"What made you jump to the conclusion that your brother was missing his soul?" Castiel asked.

Deanna grimaced again. _Only a Winchester_..."Believe it or not, but Crowley."

The traces of unease in Castiel's face vanished replaced by something that Deanna read as surprise.

"It's frickin' weird, man," the hunter added, watching him closely. "Almost like he was tryin' to warn me."

Castiel's face stayed oddly the same, no tiny indications of anything. He was making an effort to hide his reaction from her, and it fucking stung. It wasn't big enough to assume Cas was lying to her, especially since he was a shitty liar, but it was something and Deanna was really getting goddamn sick of it all.

"It's possible that Crowley was trying to distract you," suggested Castiel evenly.

"Uh-huh," said Deanna, anger coming out in the simple words. "I'm not so bad a hunter that I didn't think of that already, Cas." She turned around, needing a break from his intense eyes and the blankness on his face. "But what if Crowley's right?"

"You're displeased with me," said Castiel, like he found this so much more important than her brother, oh, you know, walking around like freakin' Dexter. "Did I do something wrong?"

Deanna whirled on him, and spat, "Crowley." The faint puzzlement and, Christ, hurt on his face disappeared just like that. "That's why I'm 'displeased' with you."

"I don't understand," he said flatly.

"I'm kinda curious why every time I mention him, you clam up."

"I - " Telling, Castiel glanced away from her to the heavens above, as though seeking guidance. Hell, considering who he was, he just might've been. "It is not something I can explain now, Deanna."

Whoa boy.

Reverting back to the Vulcan expressionless face and drawn out way of speaking? This really was under his skin.

"Okay," she said, playing along with a razor sharp edge of impatience clear in her voice. "When can you?"

"Soon." Castiel looked at her, and suddenly moved in closer. Deanna's back straightened, and - damnit - her stomach went all weird and swoopy again. So much easier when she was just screwing him. "Promise that you will listen before condemning me?"

Deanna's eyebrows shot up at the unsubtle pleading in his voice, how he'd suddenly come over all desperate on her, like he thought she was gonna cut him out. Studying his face as intently as he always studied hers, she realized that _that_ was exactly what he was afraid of.

"Damnit, Cas," her voice came out hushed and faintly horrified. "The hell did you do?" Cas continued staring at her, and, half wondering why she was bothering, Deanna swore, "Okay. I promise I'll hear you out, okay?"

The tension clinging to Castiel better than a second skin eased somewhat, and the raw, not-entirely-innocent heat in his eyes dialed down. He ducked his head a little, murmuring gratefully, "Thank you."

Before the hunter could process what the hell had just happened, the archangel had changed gears. "I will need to see Sam to confirm your suspicions either way."

Blinking at his abruptness, Deanna nodded. "Uh, yeah. I'll...get him over here, somehow."

A sudden burst of Trickster-ish laughter cut through the air between them like a blade. Cas frowned a little, and so did she.

"Why the hell did I call him here again?"

"To protect Bobby's home from demons," Cas answered promptly.

"Oh, yeah," Deanna grumbled, nodding back in the direction they'd come. "We should get back before - " a gunshot rang through the air, followed by Mary's loud cranky scream and Ben's laughter.

Deanna closed her eyes, wondered when exactly being a parent had seemed like a good idea and cursed.

* * *

After stopping Bobby from shooting Gabriel again, Gabriel from turning Bobby into something slimy because apparently only 'hot Amazon chicks' got to shoot him and defusing Mary's bloodcurdling wail, the rest of the day was as uneventful as things could be with two archangels, two grouchy hunters and two weird kids under the same roof.

Until Castiel and Gabriel were forced back up to Heaven by another attack. Deanna never wanted to see the grim urgency on their faces again.

Her nerves were strung-out for the rest of the evening. Her stomach twisted itself into a huge knot and refused to ease even when all the windows and doors were salted or when Ben went up to bed, rolling his eyes at her.

Around eleven, Bobby led her upstairs and into her usual room. Mary was squirming in her arms, and whining tiredly.

"Bobby, I've been crashing here since I was seven, I know where the frickin' room ..." Deanna stopped in surprise as her sharp eyes caught on a nice-looking pine cot with purple sheets and blankets.

Bobby shrugged uncomfortably as her eyes snapped to him. "I figure if you three are planning to stay here, you'd need some stuff for the kid."

Mary whimpered again, tugging hard at the ends of Deanna's dark blonde hair in misery. Swallowing with her suddenly dry throat, Deanna absently adjusted the two-month-old baby in her arms.

It took a moment for her to speak, her voice slightly raspy, "Thanks, Bobby."

Looking as awkward as she felt, Bobby nodded. "Don't mention it. You, should, uh, get the kid settled in."

Mary yanked with a little too much strength for a baby so young on her hair. Deanna nodded in agreement, avoiding Bobby's eyes, "Yeah. Yeah."

As Deanna went to the cot, she noticed something. Snagging it with her free arm, she let out an, "Uh," and turned towards Bobby, balancing Mary on her hip.

Half out the door, Bobby turned back to her with an eyebrow raised.

"Seriously?" Deanna exclaimed, a little disbelievingly as Mary roughly grabbed the white fluffy stuffed angel-bear by its halo, cooing like crazy. "You got her an _angel_-bear?"

"She seems to like it." Bobby smirked, gesturing at Mary, who was studying the bear.

"What next?" said Deanna, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Dude, you're not gonna go full-blown Mister Roger's on her - rocking chair, pipe, telling her all about the good ol' days - are you?"

"Don't make me go for my gun, girl," Bobby growled at her, good-naturedly. "If I'm ever tellin' the kid anything, it'll be how much of a damn idjit her momma was as a kid."

Deanna grimaced as she realized how much blackmail Bobby actually had on her, and how many times he'd hauled her ass out of the fire.

Bobby nodded, satisfied at the dread on her face. "Goodnight, kid."

"Night, Bobby."

After Bobby left, Deanna got Mary changed and tucked the kid into the new cot with the stuffed animal clutched tightly in her tiny little hands. Then she tried hitting the hay herself.

Barely twenty minutes later, Deanna gave up with an irritated growl and rolled out of bed. How the hell could she sleep when her brother could be soulless? She braced her hands on her jean clad knees. It was just easier to sleep in her clothes - never knew when you were gonna be zapped into another time-zone.

Gabriel would totally do that just to piss her off.

That thought alone made her stand up to go grab a beer or three but before the hunter could take a step, that irritating muscle in her stomach tugged and Gabriel's showy wings shattered the silence.

Deanna was at _their_ side and pulling one of Castiel's arms around her shoulder before her brain had even processed the huge-ass dark red blood staining his ugly trenchcoat and how Gabriel was forced to support his brother's weight. Sam was briefly pushed to the back of her mind.

"Jesus, Cas!" Deanna exclaimed, accent twanging with worry as she looked him over, trying to assess how bad he was cut up.

Castiel's hair was even wilder than usual, his lip was busted bloody, there was a long cut across his forehead. His shirt was more red than white and hacked to hell, like he'd lost a fight with Edward Scissorhands.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I apologize for disturbing you," Castiel murmured at her, head lolling weakly to fix her with a quarter of his usual intense stare.

"You should see the other guys," Gabriel bragged, spluttering out a machine gun laugh that Deanna would have brought easy before he'd started hanging around all the damn time.

"That would be problematic," Castiel said solemnly, leaning more on her than Gabriel. "There is very little left of our brothers."

Vividly remembering how it felt to even _think_ about killing Sam, Deanna resisted the urge to outwardly count that as a win and manhandled Castiel down onto the bed, hunching to look him in the eye.

Castiel made a quiet pained noise at the movement, and Gabriel wolf-whistled loudly.

"_Dude_."

"Yeah, yeah." Gabriel flapped a hand at her dismissively and imitated her harsh southern accent perfectly; "Shut up before I shoot you in the goddamn face, you handsome devil, you."

"The chick voice suits you," snarked Deanna, scowling at him darkly before returning her attention to Castiel. "You gonna be okay, buddy?"

"With some rest, I should recover swiftly."

Deanna nodded decisively. "Okay, you can hang around here."

Gabriel let out a melodramatic sigh. "I suppose I should go back to smashing heads while you play the wet nurse." One of his eyebrows arched leeringly and his mouth quirked into a bemusingly charming smirk.

"Go jump in a volcano, you _ass_," snapped Deanna, scowling at the obvious double meaning.

"Hmmm. Not your finest retort, Dee-dee." Gabriel noted, waggling his eyebrows impressively before disappearing with a gloating laugh and that smug flutter of wings.

Half cursing him and half wondering if Cas would ever have that level of control over his expression, Deanna switched her attention back to the injured archangel. "You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"Yes," Cas said shortly but Deanna didn't take offense. She tended to get bitchy too when most of her stomach had been torn up and her brother was such a douche-bag.

Grabbing the lapels of his trenchcoat, Deanna helped him out of it and his shoes and his jacket and his tie. Cas helped her as much as he could but remained mostly still, staring down at her and allowed the hunter to undress him.

"You're uncomfortable," Cas observed quietly as she tossed his blue tie aside and tried not to think about what they'd once done with said tie.

Pausing, Deanna bravely met his intense blue eyes. "Just old memories, Cas."

His head tilted a little to the side. "Bad?"

"No," said Deanna, unable to lie. Saying yes would put some distance between them but...whatever, too late to take things back now. "Just difficult. Move back."

Cas obeyed, shifting backwards and laying down with his head on the pillows. "You don't like remembering."

Standing up with a slight wince, Deanna scrubbed at her face, feeling too tired and too old. "It's not that, Cas. It's a fucking shitty situation we're in with the kids and Sam and..." it was tough to say the name around him. She felt like she was betraying someone. "And Lisa."

Cas' sharp blue gaze moved to the ceiling and he nodded after a few moments, unreadable.

Deciding the conversation was staying dead, Deanna made for the door. The bitch of it was that _now_ she was tired but the couch would do her fine.

"You should stay," Castiel said.

Deanna half-turned back to him, eyebrow raised with innuendo. "Kinda inappropriate, don't you think, Cas?"

"I will keep my hands to myself," Cas promised gravely, saying the phrase awkwardly, like he wasn't sure it was quite correct.

Snorting at that and the thought of Cas ever being unwantedly handsy, Deanna dropped to the bed and sprawled beside him. Just to make sure he didn't die in the middle of the night or anything.

It wasn't like they were having sex.

Still.

"This is a freaking dumb idea." Deanna sighed.

"Yes," Castiel agreed, looking over at her without regret.

* * *

When Deanna slipped slowly into consciousness, it was to find her memories jumbled like they hadn't been naturally since Sam had left for Stanford and unnaturally since the last time she'd drank herself unconscious.

It took a moment for Deanna to remember how much had changed since Stanford and to fully grasp how weird feeling so chilled out was.

Feeling a weight and warmth that occasionally came after sex, the hunter peeled her eyelids back, cursing quietly at the direct beam of sunshine to hit her eyes and looked down.

Castiel was curled up around her, eyes closed, breath exhaling soundlessly from his mouth.

The archangel's head of dark messy hair was a pleasant weight on her chest, resting level with her heart. His long-fingered hand sprawled across the small of her back, warm and proprietary.

"Freakin' liar," Deanna muttered, trying to pretend that her hand wasn't reaching out to push his hair away from his face and that her stomach didn't spasm at the peaceful look on his face.

Deanna didn't just _sleep_ with - beside - people. Not since her mom had died and her dad turned to freaking stone.

In the day, her actions seemed a whole lot worse than they had before.

She needed to get laid. Like, yesterday. Not by Cas because that was one big-ass can of worms...

The feel of his hand seemed to burn into her back in all its possessive glory, and Deanna acknowledged that dealing with a jealous archangel after picking up some random dude was worthy of her brother's bitch-face.

After another five minutes of lazing around, Deanna mustered up the self-hatred to worm out from under Castiel and swiftly changed her clothes in the bathroom. Noticing the lack of bruising on her neck from the Djinn's attack, Deanna went back into the bedroom to pull on her shoes.

Her instincts prickled.

Deanna turned her head to the side. Castiel's blue eyes were perfectly alert as he watched her. She looked away, continued lacing her boots.

"Sometimes," Deanna muttered as casually as she could, shaking her head a little, "I forget you don't sleep."

Castiel remained silent as she knotted her boots and stayed sitting there. "You keeping the kid out?"

"No," Castiel answered, growling voice even rougher from disuse.

It made Deanna glad that she'd stayed seated - she drew the line at swooning like a chick from the fucking 1800s even if his deep dark timbre sounded like stubble scrapping against smooth skin. It was the hottest voice she'd ever heard, including her own.

"Our child requires more sleep then others," he continued.

_Our child._

Deanna looked down at him over her shoulder, hair brushing her cheek. "What?"

"Her celestial side has yet to be fully developed," he explained in a harsh rasp, closing his brilliant eyes. "Until it is, she will require more rest than a human child."

Turning back to face the wall, Deanna accepted that with some relief. "There should be a damn guidebook to this shit."

"I believe there are many books containing information on parenting."

Snorting, Deanna added, "On half-angel, half-human whatevers?"

"There has not been a nephilim - " if there was a slight emphasis in that sentance, Deanna ignored it for his sake, " - for many years."

"How many is a many?"

Castiel's eyes opened, looking at her as though she was so small - and yet completely _not_, never to him. "Humans cannot remember how far back."

Deanna looked over at her sleep daughter, with that damned angel-bear, and swallowed, a little nervously.

That was some history for such a tiny little thing.

* * *

Leaving Mary to sleep and Cas to watch her until he had to disappear, Deanna headed down stairs to find Bobby listlessly browsing through books at his desk with a cup of steaming coffee. Ben joined them not long after.

The boy pretended not to notice her bouncing knee and unrelenting tension. She would call Sam soon, but she needed to take care of Ben first.

"What did you two talk about?" Ben asked unexpectedly when the female hunter passed him some ceral and sat down with him to watch an entirely different kind of hunter getting owned by Bugs Bunny.

"Gonna have to be more specific, kiddo."

"You and Castiel, yesterday," Ben amended. "When Bobby and Uncle Gabriel were snarking at each other."

It took a moment for Deanna to stop choking on her black coffee in horror under Bobby's glare and Ben's steady gaze. "_Uncle _Gabriel?"

Son of a bitch. Between Mary and Ben, she'd expected Gabriel to con her daughter into calling him uncle.

Ben shrugged defensively. "He basically _is_, anyway!"

"I'm kinda curious to know about that myself," Bobby interjected loudly, steering the subject back onto the rails with a look sharp enough to flay skin.

With Ben and Bobby looking at her impatiently for answers, Deanna tried to think how the hell she could answer that.

It was one thing explaining her theory to Cas, another to Bobby and Ben. They needed to be warned, that was clear...but if her theory turned out to be bullshit, she'd be worrying them for nothing.

She was trusting a freakin' _demon _on this, one who probably wanted to gut her little girl.

Crowley was probably just trying to throw her off guard. Maybe Sam was just so screwed by Hell that the Djinn poison didn't work and his morals were all jumbled up. She could get that.

Deanna wanted to believe anything but what her instincts were telling her. But even after the hunter had clawed her way out of that pinebox, remembering her brother's name before her own, she wouldn't have let a possible Wendigo run around hurting people.

"Deanna?" prompted Ben after a few moments silence, watching her with wide concerned brown eyes. Bobby looked at her impatiently.

Unconsciously working her jaw, Deanna decided to sack up about it. She outlined the Djinn hunt for them then went on to tell them about the loose Wendigo and about her conversation with Cas.

"What in all hell is wrong with you and your brother?" Bobby raged, standing up abruptly. His face was flushed an angry red, and he was glaring at her. "Wasn't the demon blood and constant trips down under bad enough?"

"Hey!" Deanna rose sharply to her own feet. She knew most of his anger came from concern but didn't he know she was blaming herself enough as it is? "Sam's off the demon blood and I'm outta Hell. It isn't his fault that his soul was - was - was lost or whatever!"

"Who _loses_ a soul?" Ben asked, looking extremely unsettled by the thought.

It was clearly not on Ben's wish-list, and that made Deanna want to ruffle his hair and get him the hell away from her before that became his number one goal in life.

"Winchesters!" Bobby spat, shaking his head angrily. "You, your brother and your daddy were all so damn eager to sell yourselves down the river for each other even though none of you could stand being in the same room together!"

There wasn't a whole lot Deanna could say to that. _I'll save you, if you want it or not is not my problem_ was the Winchester way. It was an unbreakable link.

The knowledge that Sammy needed her help had been writhing under her skin since yesterday, barely numbed by the constant twists and turns, and she didn't have the fucking time for this.

"We're all idiots, Bobby - I got the point years ago, but how the hell can I sit here while my brother could be - " Deanna ground her teeth together, knee bouncing a little faster.

Dealing with the Winchester bullshit and random archangels popping in and Ben's unsettling normality and _Mary_, her baby, was more than most could handle but Bobby wasn't most and she should at least shut her pie-hole and listen but today, Deanna just _can't_.

Bobby's anger faded into simple annoyance. "You best go get your idjit brother then," he grumbled like it was the easiest thing in the world. "I'll take care of the kid."

"And I'll take care of Mary," Ben said simply, uneffected by the brief argument. He spooned another mouthful of Lucky Charms into his mouth.

_I'll take care of Sammy_, spoonful of Lucky Charms and a smile for her hero.

Fuck. Deanna had _never _wanted to be like her dad in this way. It ached in a dull resigned sort of way but she wasn't letting Sam or Crowley turn that sweet kid into her without a fight.

Deanna ruffled Ben's hair, making him clamp his lips together to keep himself from laughing and spitting mild everywhere. Ben's brown eyes sparkled, and Deanna grinned proudly at him, making a mental note to buy him more film for his camera.

"You're awesome, kid.

"I know," Ben said cockily, pink in the cheeks.

That's her boy.

Deanna kept the shy but happy smile on his face in her mind as she went outside and punched in her brother's new number.

* * *

Not an hour later, Sam's crappy car pulled up in Bobby's scrap yard, and Sam's towering form climbed out of the car, moving up the steps.

"Hey."

"Hey," Deanna returned with a nod, straightening up from her slouched position over the wood railing. Her face was carefully expressionless. "Beer?"

To calm her nerves, she had grabbed a couple of beers, leaving the six-pack beside her worn boots.

"Sure." Sam caught the bottle she threw to him and came to stand beside her, copying her (forced) laid-back posture. Uncapping the bottle, he took a swig before speaking. "Hey. I was thinking about that Wendigo."

_The one you ditched to chase after me,_ she bit down on her tongue, her fury and her fear. It wasn't Sam, just another cold-hearted bastard, only this one happened to be wearing her brother's skin. Like Lucifier.

"Uh huh," Deanna said noncommittally, sipped her own beer.

"I've been locking around, and there's a hunt not too far from her - "

Without a single change in her expression, Deanna turned so that her hip pressed against the railing and she brought her beer bottle down on the back of Sam's head.

The glass shattered into tiny chips of brown glass, and Sam staggered with a loud grunt of pain, crumpling over the railing. As quickly as he'd fallen, Sam jumped up, arm jerking backwards. His elbow slammed into Deanna's throat, and she choked, rearing backwards, her back hitting the wall of Bobby's house.

Sucking in a hard pained breath, Deanna surged forward, snagging the back of Sam's neck, and slamming his face into the railing. Gasping for breath, she intercepted Sam's arm, twisting until he shouted in pain.

"Deanna! What - "

"Shut up," she snarled, twisting his arm further back, and driving her knee up into his stomach.

Then, as he wheezed and gasped, huge, strong form coiling with pain, Deanna yanked Sam's head back by his long brown hair and slammed his head back down into the railing.

She did it again, and again, and again. Rage burned through her, dark and blinding. Her mouth settled in a tight line, jaw clenched, and eyes burning with tears. Damnit. Why did it always end up like this?

"Deanna," a rough voice stated.

Deanna startled, losing her grip on Sam's head. "Jesus, Cas - " she shook her head, swallowing. Her hand was wet with blood.

Cas stared at her, blue eyes solemn, face grim. "You are crying."

Fuck.

Deanna scrubbed her face with her sleeve, leaving a small smear of blood on her cheek. She hardened her expression before looking at Castiel, who was studying her like he'd never seen her before.

"I'll explain inside," she grunted, bending down to grab one of Sam's arms.

He was on his back, chips of glass in his hair, blood pooling around his head. Not being able to see his face should have helped, but she could pick his broad back out of a line-up.

"Let me," Cas said, and then he was there.

Looking up his long legs from her crouch on the floor, Deanna hesitated. "You sure you can - " Cas bent down and hefted Sam's huge form over his shoulder without and pause, leaving Deanna to finish lamely, "Okay, then." She raised an arm, mock accomplished, voice carrying an unshakably grim undertone. "To the panic room."


End file.
